


₩4,500

by minijhi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), Do They Even Hold Hands, Forever Burn, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Mutant discrimination, Slow Burn, Timeskip Ending, all knowledge is relatively fictitious such as the price of dawn 808
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minijhi/pseuds/minijhi
Summary: Minseok works the late night shift at a convenience store.  Baekhyun and Jongdae are thieves who keep coming back.





	₩4,500

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I’m kind of disgruntled I spent so much time on this unnecessary,~~ romanticized robbers-to-lovers fic. It was supposed to be a short, funny story, but the only short funny story I have for you today is that I genuinely thought this would be finished in time for Baekhyun’s birthday. Ha. Ha. Ha…
> 
> Please read the tags and tread carefully. There's a minor conversation late in the story that could pass as mentions of self-harm, and in general this is nowhere nearly as light (or dark) as it should be. An uncommitted fic.

There’s a couple pushed up against the glass of one of the coffee displays when Minseok looks up from his books, an uncomfortable display of limbs and hair. They’re not the first people who have come in and kissed beneath the poster of Paik Jong-won like it’s the first sprig of mistletoe, and they won’t be the last. Minseok has no idea why. Surely there are places far more romantic than beside an open cooler in a convenience store. 

Minseok sighs, silently counting to ten as he makes his way towards them.

“Excuse me,” he says, letting just a little bit of annoyance bleed into his voice. “Can I help you?”

The couple startles like rabbits. “Yes?” One of them says bravely, pulling back to face Minseok. “We were looking for chips? We can’t find them.”

Someone stifles a laugh, and Minseok turns to see a customer lurking in the next aisle. It’s a young man, probably a college student, one who’s been wandering up and down for the past few minutes, but he’s spent more time looking at his phone than for anything to buy. He catches Minseok’s eye and quickly retreats out the door without a purchase.

“You won’t find chips in the  _cold drinks_  section.” Minseok says. “Follow me.”

He leads them to the right aisle and leaves once he’s made sure they’re not about to get sidetracked again, going back to his late-night studying attempts.

A few minutes later, the girls come to the counter with bags of shrimp chips and popcorn. Minseok rings them up and bids them a goodnight, glancing over at the clock as he sorts the bills and coins into their individual compartments. It’s almost two a.m., which means he only has another half-hour until the end of his shift for the night.

Just enough time to finish reading tomorrow’s chapter and— oh  _shit_. He was supposed to have submitted the notes for the trade settlement lecture by midnight. He’s had it done for hours, too, he just never got around to sending it. Professor Lee is going to skin him alive. Screaming inwardly, Minseok drops the rest of the notes into the register without sorting them and slams the cash drawer shut.

There’s a pained yowl right into his ear, and Minseok shrieks, lunging backwards as a boy appears out of thin air.

“What the hell?” Minseok says, just as the front door of the store bursts open. It’s the boy who’d been lurking the aisles earlier, but right now his eyes are sharp and alert, especially when he vaults right onto the counter and grabs Minseok’s face with both hands. Minseok can feel sparks on his skin, not enough to hurt, but more than enough to serve as a warning.

“Don’t move.” he snarls at Minseok.

God. Minseok is in so much trouble. They’re Unnaturals.

The magically-appearing boy still has his fingers cradled in one hand, and five-thousand-won bills have spilled across the counter and floor.   His hair is dyed a striking shade of red, and Minseok can’t tear his eyes away. Most Unnaturals tended to go one way or the other— either sticking out like a sore thumb, or mild and unobtrusive enough to slip under the radar.

“Did he hurt you?” the boy holding Minseok’s face demands to the red-haired Unnatural. This one’s dressed in black from head to toe, and if he so much as changed clothes, Minseok doubts he would recognize him.

“I’m fine.” Red-haired boy says. He inspects his hand one more time and comes up to the counter, hip-checking Minseok out of the way.

“Sorry. Move over a bit, okay?” he says.

The hands holding Minseok’s face slip to his shoulder instead, thumb pressing a new warning into the juncture of his collarbone. The other hand goes over to the register, and the drawer slides open.

“Thanks. How much do we need?” the boy beside Minseok asks. He takes all the five and ten-thousand won notes, and Minseok’s relieved to see that they don’t have anything larger. The boy ponders a little, and peels half of the thousand-won notes from the register before closing it again.

“Grab a bottle of banana milk.” The one gripping Minseok’s shoulder says. “Chanyeol’s been bugging me all day for some.”

“Strawberry too. And something for Soo.” Red-haired boy hums, picking bottles off the shelf. “Want anything?”

The boy turns his face away from Minseok just enough to glance over at his friend. “Is there sikhye?”

He scans the shelf. “I don’t think so. Want peach tea instead?”

“It’s around the other side.” Minseok mumbles, and both boys snap their heads back to look at him. The red-haired boy beams at Minseok, scooting around the shelves to retrieve the drink.

He’s back within moments, four bottles tucked in one arm. He waves at Minseok, inclining his head in the slightest bow, and ducks out the door.

Minseok watches as the door closes, red-hair disappearing behind the misted glass door into shadows. His eyes go back to the boy perched on the counter. Dark eyes study Minseok carefully, expression giving nothing away. He’s so close that Minseok can feel the heat of his body. It’s disquieting, but not in the way Minseok would expect. He’s just never been this close to an Unnatural before.

The Unnatural’s fingers tighten around his shoulder once, then release, smoothing across Minseok’s shirt briefly.

“Sorry.” he says, sliding backwards off the counter. His eyes go to the surveillance camera above the register, hands still emitting tiny sparks, like a cheap party trick. Electricity, at this distance, sounds like champagne bubbles popping.

“Is that the only one?” he asks Minseok.

Minseok swallows. “There’s one more in the back. Neither of you went within the frame.”

The boy smiles slightly, lips curling up, and Minseok wonders why he ever thought this Unnatural was  _forgettable._  

“Thank you.” he says. He holds Minseok’s gaze the entire way to the door, never turning his back. Only when he reaches the door and pulls it open, does he finally break eye contact, disappearing beyond the glass to join the other.

When he tries to check the security camera later, Minseok is not surprised to find that the entire encounter is missing.

- 

“You didn’t tell your boss that they were Unnaturals?” Junmyeon asks, when Minseok relays the story to him the next day. Minseok had spent the entire morning making up for the outline he’d forgotten to send the night before, and barely had the time to invite Junmyeon for a late lunch before Professor Lee had bestowed him with an entire stack of first-year papers to grade.

They’re one of the last people in the Dongwon dining hall for lunch hour, and the cafeteria is mostly empty. Minseok’s bibimbap is still good though, and he’s grateful for the momentary respite.

Minseok shrugs a shoulder in response to Junmyeon’s question, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth. “I didn’t want to bring it up.” he says. “He’s the type of person who would hold it against their kind, I just told him they had a knife.”

Junmyeon nods. He’s met Minseok’s boss before, if only briefly, and already has a pretty good grasp on what kind of person Mr. Song is. “Wow. I don’t know anyone else with powers except Zhang Yixing, and he’s not really how you expect them to act, is he? What were they like?”

Minseok remembers the warm fizzling of the Unnatural’s hands against his cheeks. He’d been oddly gentle, despite it all, and when he got off the counter he’d even brushed the dirt from his shoes off it.

“I don’t know.” he says. “It all happened really quickly, honestly.”

Junmyeon pushes his now empty tray aside, leaning back in his seat. “Just be careful. I’m glad they didn’t hurt you. Some of the stories can be horrifying." 

“Most of them are just stories.” Minseok says. “We’ve talked about this." 

And they have. They’ve both been through this argument far too many times. Junmyeon, like almost everyone else Minseok knows, grew up believing that Unnaturals were dangerous, a grotesque genetic mutation best observed from a distance. It’s a difficult belief to stamp out.

Unlike most people, at the very least, Junmyeon tries to understand. He gives Minseok a worried look and shrugs. “Okay. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your building. I’m meeting someone at the student center after lunch.”

They switch to a lighter topic, Junmyeon complaining about his analytics class, and setting a date for them to have dinner the following week. By the time he returns to his classes, Minseok’s barely spared a thought for the two Unnaturals.

- 

Minseok doesn’t really need the job at the convenience store for the money. It’s always nice having some extra cash on the side, but between working as a TA and his undergraduate savings, he has more than enough money leftover at the end of each month.

He took the job when the opportunity arose though, because he has hundreds of pages to read every day, and his one-bedroom apartment at the dorms is always eerily quiet after midnight. The late night shift at the convenience store provides a good balance, and Minseok doesn’t mind most of the after-dark customers, strange as they often are, because they are also usually few and far in between.

Mr. Song, despite his brusque demeanor, treats Minseok reasonably well, and never minds that Minseok spends most of his shift studying. Once in awhile, he has Minseok clean the refrigerator doors, filthy with handprints and whatever else has been pressed up against them, but mostly he leaves Minseok alone. They’d come to a decision to split the loss after the robbery, and Minseok’s bank account was 200,000 won poorer after that, but Minseok was only relieved that he hadn’t been asked any more questions beyond the first report.

Winter gets colder, and Minseok scrapes through his comparative constitution classes and into a new term. He works diligently, writing all his papers on time, keeping on Professor Lee’s good side. He doesn’t sass as many customers at work, and he even stacks the new inventory when it comes in on a Wednesday instead of a Tuesday, and the morning shift worker hadn’t been able to get through them. Minseok’s doing good in life, which is why he’s sure some higher deity is getting a kick out of it when the robbers come back. 

It’s nearly three a.m. when the door opens for the first time in at least forty-minutes. Minseok barely looks up at first, just catches the back of the customer’s head and noting that it’s a young man before going back to his books, because clearly he’s very bad at this crime-and-awareness thing. The next time he looks up is when the customer pulls up at the counter and puts down a can of Dawn 808.

“Hi.” Minseok nearly falls off his stool. It’s the dark-haired Unnatural from the other day.

Minseok is too dumbstruck to even think about calling the police, just gapes at the boy in his odd, psychedelic shirt and denim jacket. His hair is styled today, and Minseok’s sure he’s coming back from a night out, if the hangover remedy he’s holding hasn’t already given it away.

The thief pushes the drink towards Minseok when Minseok doesn’t move. He looks nervous, but it’s more of a first-date nervousness, not the ‘I-robbed-you-the-other-night-please-don’t-call-the-police’ kind that he should be. “Um, hey? Can you…?”

Minseok looks down at the can.

“Are you paying for this?” Minseok asks suspiciously. He slides the drink under the scanner, digital screen reading 3,000 won.

The boy pulls a five-thousand won bill from his pocket and Minseok takes it just as the door pushes open again. Minseok’s entire body tenses. It’s the red-haired one this time, dressed similarly, except his denim jacket is hanging off one arm. His face is flushed a bright red to match his hair.

“Dae, why’d you come in here?” he mumbles, leaning against the magazine rack, face pressed against a glossy cover photo of a boyband.

“Baekhyun, I told you to wait outside.” the dark-haired Unnatural, something-Dae or Dae-something, says. He casts a mistrustful look at Minseok, hand still outstretched, and Minseok realizes he’s waiting for his change. Minseok shuts the cash register in defiance without taking out any money.

“Listen up, you two.” Minseok says, as sternly as he can muster.

Baekhyun lets out a whimper. “Please don’t talk so loudly. My head is spinning.”

“Come here.” Seeing that Minseok’s not going to be giving him his two-thousand won, Dae withdraws his hand and tugs Baekhyun to him, flicking open the lid of the Dawn 808 and pushing it towards Baekhyun’s lips.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t make me drink that.” Baekhyun says, slumping across the counter. He looks up at Minseok, bleary-eyed, then at the row of Ghana chocolate bars arranged next to the credit card reader.

“Can I have some chocolate?” he asks Minseok hopefully, wrapping his fingers around one of them.

“No.” Minseok says, snatching the bar out of his hand. “Pay for it if you want it, I know you’re not broke. You just made half-a-million won a few weeks ago.”

“You can take two.” Something-Dae says. “He hasn’t given us our change.”

Baekhyun grins woozily and reaches for the Ghana bars again. Minseok knocks the approaching hand out of the way. “You owe me half-a-million won!”

Baekhyun whines.

“Baekhyunnie, up.” Dae orders. He’s still holding the can in one hand, and the other hand wraps around Baekhyun’s lower back, grip tight. Baekhyun continues to protest all the way out of the shop, stopping only when Dae pours the drink down his throat, and he splutters.

“I’m never going drinking with you again.” Baekhyun tells him, and Dae just laughs, arm draped easily around his waist.

“Mm-hmm. Just try going with anyone else, you’ll end up lying on the pavement crying for me all night.” Dae says.

“That was one time.” Baekhyun complains, but he buries his face in Dae’s neck, nuzzling like an affectionate koala. They fit each other like puzzle pieces.

“Thanks.” Dae calls over his shoulder, and they’re both out the door before Minseok can register what happened.

Later, when Minseok stacks the chocolate back into their five-tiered pyramid, he realizes that two are missing anyway.

At least, Minseok thinks mournfully, it’s only two bars of chocolate this time.

 

-

 

He speaks too soon. Exactly a-week-and-a-half later, he’s ringing up a middle-aged-man buying four tubs of ice cream in nothing but coins, and gets a strange prickling feeling over his shoulder when he deposits the money into the cash drawer.

Minseok spins around, but there’s nothing there.

“What?” the customer says, staring at him. He’s already started on the first tub of mint chocolate gelato, smacking his lips noisily. Minseok shakes his head, and the man settles himself at one of the window seats to eat.

The shop door opens and closes. Minseok looks back towards the doors. There’s no one in sight, just the same boring view of the road and the construction site across the street. Minseok frowns, and before his eyes, a flash of red materializes.

 _Thump!_  

A face appears right outside the glass, and Baekhyun plants both hands firmly onto the door. “Thank youuuu!” he calls through the closed door. Dae is right beside him, looking exasperated, but he smiles at Minseok when he catches him looking.

“Goodnight.” he mouths, and grabs Baekhyun’s arm, tugging him from the steps. Minseok’s stomach is starting to feel distinctly unpleasant, like he just chugged an entire glass of fish sauce.

Minseok swipes the register open at once. All the five-thousand-won bills are gone.

_Damnit._

-

Late-night robberies aside, the new year is working out to be a relatively good one. Professor Lee assigns him two more classes at the beginning of the term, and Minseok takes on extra shifts at the convenience store so that he can do work through them. While bizarre in theory, Minseok’s starting to find that he works better in the store than anywhere else, including the state-of-the-art SNU library. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

His shifts start at ten and end at two or three in the morning most days. It’s a system that works, strangely enough, because the drive home is always calming, and Minseok often gets at least six full hours of sleep before he has to go to class. It’s a welcome change from his undergraduate years, when he lived with Junmyeon but sometimes neither of them would see each other for days.

The problem with taking more shifts, however, is that the Unnaturals come in  _a lot_. They’re not always robbing the place, thank god, but Baekhyun in particular is prone to visiting at least once or twice a week during Minseok’s shift. He’s relentless at making conversation, always tries to pester Minseok into giving him things when he can easily steal them, and then sits at one of the tables and eats a lunchbox without paying for it first.

“I used to come in here and eat without anyone seeing me.” Baekhyun tells him, breaking apart the chopsticks for today’s bulgogi lunchbox. “But now that you know me, I don’t have to hide anymore. Thanks, hyung. Optical illusions always made the rice taste extra sticky, for some reason.”

“You should definitely hide.” Minseok informs him. “I’m going to call the police. Do you know how much trouble you’d be in? Do you even know how much money you’ve cost me?”

Minseok should be calling the police, but Baekhyun always looks so content, sitting at the table and munching on his food. Minseok tells himself he’ll call later, and never does.

“They’re almost past their shelf life, anyway.” Baekhyun says. “You’d have to toss them out. What are you studying today?”

-

Taking advantage of the milder winter this year, Minseok finds himself sitting outside by the Jahayeon pond in between classes, appreciating the scenery and fresh air. As much as he likes having a packed schedule, he misses being outside every once in awhile and enjoying nature.

Today his first class after lunch is cancelled, so Minseok has an extra two hours to kill that he’s currently leisurely watching go by. Minseok draws another sip from his takeout coffee, contemplating going to the gym for a quick workout so he won’t have to after class. He might even have the time to go back to his room for a proper shower, if he’s efficient about it.

It’s a good idea, but Minseok can’t be bothered to carry through with it. He leans back, slumping down on the bench and letting his legs stretch out before him. Most of the noon classes have just let out, and droves of students are making their way past, weaving left and right on the crowded walkway.

It’s a student passing by beneath the shade of a gingko tree that catches Minseok’s eye, face masked in the shadows. Minseok isn’t sure where he recognizes the student from, or why he’s drawn Minseok’s attention. He’s been in university for five years and it could be anyone, from a student in one of the numerous classes he’s taught, to someone he met at a party freshman year and never saw again until now.

There’s no reason to keep looking, but Minseok waits, and as soon as the boy steps out of the shadows, Minseok nearly spills his coffee all over himself.

It’s Baekhyun’s counterpart Unnatural. He looks different in daylight, without the harsh lighting of the convenience store cast overhead, and he looks softer, less dangerous. He looks just like any other student on campus, and Minseok starts when he realizes that’s exactly what he is.

He’s dressed comfortably in a large hoodie and dark jeans, and as he passes right in front of Minseok without looking to the side, Minseok sees the tattered state of the textbooks in his arms.

“What.” Minseok mumbles to himself, gripping his coffee tightly. It’s an Unnatural on campus. An Unnatural who isn’t Zhang Yixing is a student. Minseok watches him cross the street towards the Humanities building, and for reasons he can’t pinpoint, Minseok jolts into action.

“Hey! Hold up!” Minseok says, tossing his coffee into the trash and hurrying after the boy. Dae doesn’t turn, and Minseok speeds up, hastily apologizing to a professor when he nearly bowls them over.

“Dae-ssi!” Minseok calls, as loud as he’s willing to, and at last Dae turns. It takes only a moment before he sees Minseok, eyes widening. He looks torn between running and standing still, and Minseok pulls up beside him before he can decide.

“Hey.” Minseok begins. “Uh, I didn’t know you studied here.”

Dae looks at him warily. They’re standing in the middle of the path, and Minseok gestures for him to step aside. They move off the pavement onto a plot of uneven dirt, and Dae shifts the books in his arms from left to right.

“What were you calling me?” he asks, brows creased slightly. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

Minseok winces. “Yeah, um. I don’t really know your name. Baekhyun just keeps calling you Dae.”

Dae lifts an eyebrow, considering. “It’s Jongdae.” he says finally, and doesn’t offer to shake hands. He’s still watching Minseok, and Minseok easily recognizes the fight-or-flight posture of his body.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” Minseok says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I was just surprised to see you.”

“Okay.” Jongdae says. “Well, hello.”

When the awkward silence goes on for too long, Jongdae turns away, drawing his books to his chest again. “I’m gonna go.” he says. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Can I buy you lunch?” Minseok asks.

Jongdae takes a step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” he says. “Look, Minseok-ssi, we can just pretend—”

“Consider it a favour.” Minseok interrupts. “I haven’t eaten yet, you can sit with me.”

“Why?” Jongdae asks, sounding utterly bewildered. “Why would you want to eat with  _me_?”

Jongdae looks him over suspiciously, pulling his sleeves back down until his fingers are barely peeking out over the hoodie. Minseok suddenly realizes what the rolled-up sleeves mean, and can’t help but glance down at Jongdae’s left wrist.

“I’m unreported.” Jongdae says, seeing Minseok’s gaze. “Obviously, I wouldn’t be here if I was.”

Minseok flushes, yanking his eyes back to Jongdae’s face. “I didn’t mean,” he begins, “I don’t know why I did that. It doesn’t make a difference to me. I’m not going to report you. Or tell anyone.”

Minseok forces himself to stop talking, not even sure what he’s stammering about at this point.

Jongdae sighs, then cracks a tired smile.

“Do you really want to buy me lunch?”

-

They bypass the second level of the cafeteria straight to the third, where mostly only professors and upperclassmen are seated. The noisy bustle of the lower floor is still audible, but far more tolerable at this distance. Minseok places the order for two bowls of galbitang when Jongdae hesitates.

“I’ve never eaten up here,” Jongdae offers, as they carry their trays over to one of the tables at the far end of the cafeteria. “It’s a lot fancier than downstairs.”

Minseok nods, sliding into the seat across from Jongdae. “A professor took me here for lunch once, and I’ve been coming back for their food ever since.”

Jongdae makes a small noise, dipping his spoon into the broth. “I usually just eat stuff from home. Or if I’m with Baekhyun, we go to the Hansot out by the main gate.”

Minseok looks up.

“Baekhyun’s not a student,” Jongdae clarifies. “If that’s what your shocked expression is asking.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s a student.” Minseok says quickly. “I didn’t mean—” There’s no polite way to finish his train of thought, so Minseok lets it trail off.

Jongdae snorts. “Baekhyun could get a perfect score for his CSAT and still not make it beyond the front gate.” Jongdae says. “I know what you were thinking.”

Minseok bites his lip. “What about Zhang Yixing?” He’s always wondered, watching Yixing walk down the halls with an ever-present smile on his face. Minseok longed to talk to him each time, and never did.

“Funny how you assume we know one another.” Jongdae says. “Zhang Yixing is one-in-ten-million people. I don’t know his story. I don’t talk to him.”

“Why not?” Minseok asks.

“Really?” Jongdae says, raising an eyebrow. “What reason would I have to talk to him?”

Minseok frowns and takes a big spoonful of food so there won’t be room for another foot in his mouth. “Sorry.” He mumbles. “I just thought. Maybe.”

Jongdae looks around them at the empty tables and chairs before turning back to Minseok. “You’re not too far off, I guess.” He tells Minseok. “He ran into me during my freshman year, offered to buy me lunch.”

Even knowing he won’t find anything, Minseok can’t help but glance at Jongdae’s wrist again. Jongdae rolls his eyes, flicking his sleeve down to reveal the unblemished skin.

“Stop that.” Jongdae says in exasperation. “It was a coincidence. He was just being friendly.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think?” Jongdae asks. “The same thing I wanted to do when I saw you. I ran.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Minseok tells Jongdae.

Jongdae regards Minseok coolly. “I’m still considering it.”

“I wanted to look for him later, to apologize. But I couldn’t risk it. Everyone knew he had powers, and I was afraid that if I made friends with him—” Jongdae cuts himself off. Softer, he adds, “I was in my first year, I just wanted to go to university like everyone else. I still don’t know if I regret it." 

“I could introduce you.” Minseok says, even though to introduce Jongdae to Yixing, he would first have to introduce  _himself_.

Jongdae gives him the same skeptical, appraising look he’s been using a lot since Minseok accosted him. “You know him? What are you, a supernatural friend collector?”

“You’re the one who robbed me first.” Minseok protests.

“Robbed you,” Jongdae agrees, “Not tried to make friends.”

“Baekhyun approached me first, though.” Minseok says.

Jongdae gives a long-suffering sigh. He rolls the straw of his drink between his thumb and forefinger. “Baekhyun has zero sense of self-preservation. He talks to strangers and dyes his hair and  _likes_  showing off his powers, even when he knows he might get into trouble for it.”

Minseok’s well aware. Just last week, Baekhyun had hidden in a corner of the store, completely invisible, and spent the better part of Minseok’s shift tricking customers into thinking they had six fingers. Entertainment aside, the prank had given him a headache afterwards, and for the remaining hour he’d cried large crocodile tears, whining for Minseok’s pity.

“You should tell him to watch himself.” Minseok says, brow knitted. “It’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been telling him for the past eight years.” Jongdae says. “Maybe you should try it. He seems to trust you, for some odd reason.”

Minseok’s strangely flattered by the double-edged compliment. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face. “On the other hand,” He tells Jongdae levelly, “I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t trust either of you. But yet here we are.”

Jongdae’s mouth turns up in a reluctant smile.

“We’re pretty reliable people.” Jongdae says. “Robberies aside.”

Minseok ponders this.

“Give me your number.” He says, at last. “Call me sometime if you want to have lunch.”

-

“Why didn’t you tell me that Jongdae goes to SNU?” Minseok tells Baekhyun the next time he comes in. “You’ve been sitting in here talking your tongue off for at least a month now, what are you even talking about if you don’t mention things like this?”

Baekhyun looks delighted, and waves Minseok over to join him at the table where he’s currently eating a small series of kimbap. His hair, which has changed colours at least two other times in the past three months since they first met, is a dyed Extra Light Ash Blonde today. Minseok knows this for a fact, because Baekhyun had spent the better part of his last visit picking boxes of hair dye off the shelves and calling their names out to Minseok for a second opinion.

“Jongdae is going to graduate top of his class.” Baekhyun tells him spiritedly, “And then he’s going to become one of the most successful CEOs in Seoul and we’re going to become rich and we’ll stop stealing from you. It’s going to be great.”

“I’m glad you’ve planned a future in which you stop stealing from me.” Minseok says dryly. “In this future of yours, I basically work at this convenience store forever until Jongdae’s rich, do I?”

Baekhyun laughs loudly, and a chunk of corn and tuna falls from his open mouth.

“That’s very kind of you, hyung.” Baekhyun says, and takes a bite of his second kimbap. Minseok rolls his eyes, sliding out of the table to grab himself a cup of brewed coffee. They have so much leftover coffee at the end of the night, and Minseok’s taken to drinking it despite the poor flavour just because it hurts his heart to pour it into the sink.

“Don’t you ever eat proper food?” Minseok asks as he returns to the table, just in time to see Baekhyun take another huge bite.

“Kyungsooks when we hab the inreduhnts.” Baekhyun says, his mouth full.

“What.” Minseok says, slapping a napkin into Baekhyun’s face. “Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Yurr the un who ast me a quession.” Baekhyun says, but thankfully he continues behind the napkin so Minseok isn’t subject to the horrors of chewed-up tuna and rice.

“By the way,” Baekhyun says, once he’s done eating and has shredded the kimbap wrapper into tiny pieces, “do you want to come over for dinner one of these days?”

Minseok scalds his tongue on the coffee when he swallows too quickly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” Baekhyun says. “Is it funny? I thought you’d like to come have dinner with us, especially since you’ve already had lunch with Jongdae, and all you’ve done so far is watch me eat.”

Minseok gawks at him. He can’t even begin to fathom how Baekhyun’s mind works. That aside, “What are we even going to eat? Triangle kimbap and hot bar?” 

Baekhyun smacks him on the arm. “I just told you Kyungsoo can cook.” he says, indignant.

“Is that what you said?” Minseok asks. “I was under the impression you told me Kyungsoo-ssi was a book.” 

“Kyungsoo  _is_  a book.” Baekhyun says, “But that’s not the point. He might be cooking for us sometime next week, you should come by.”  
  
“You’re really inviting me, the guy whose store you keep robbing, for dinner at your house?” Minseok says. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea.”

“Kyungsoo’s a good cook.” Baekhyun says.

“That’s not why I think this is a bad idea.” Minseok points out.

“You don’t have to come.” Baekhyun says, pouting. “I just thought it might be nice. Don’t you want to eat with me? We’ll pay for everything, you know. You don’t even have to bring a doorgift.”

Minseok snorts. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already paid for everything.” When Baekhyun continues to look downcast, Minseok tilts Baekhyun’s chin up to look him in the eyes.

“Listen, I can’t believe I have to say this, but you shouldn’t be inviting strangers to your house, especially if you’ve been robbing them.” Minseok says. 

“Will you come if I stop robbing you?” Baekhyun asks.

“Maybe.” Minseok says, unsure whether to be hopeful or confused. “Do you really want me over that badly?”

Baekhyun gives him a long look. “I guess not.” He decides. “Sorry, hyung. Offer’s rescinded.” He brightens. “I’ll bring leftovers over if Kyungsoo cooks, okay?" 

If anything, the conflicting feelings of hope and confusion just grows stronger. Seeing Baekhyun waiting patiently for a response, Minseok manages a, “Um sure, Baekhyun, that’ll be great, thanks.”

-

“Hyung, this is Chanyeol, our housemate.” Jongdae says, when he steps into the store a month later, going straight for the cash registers. Minseok puts up a half-hearted protest, eventually stepping back to let Jongdae pass.

The store has been quiet all night, so there isn’t a lot of money in the register to begin with, but Jongdae only takes out a handful of bills before shutting it again.

Chanyeol hovers behind Jongdae’s shoulder the entire time, wringing his hands nervously. He is surprisingly unsuccessful at putting on an intimidating front for someone so tall. With hair as red as Baekhyun’s had been the first time they met, it’s enough indication for Minseok to know that he’s dealing with another Unnatural. 

“Where’s Baekhyun?” Minseok asks, watching Jongdae split the bills with Chanyeol and tuck the money into their respective pockets.

“He’s not feeling well.” Jongdae says grumpily. “He’s at home. Kyungsoo’s looking after him, so it’s me and Chanyeol tonight.”

Chanyeol makes a petrified noise, stepping away when Minseok looks at him.

“I’m not going to  _hurt_  you.” Minseok says, incredulously. “If I was going to attack someone, it would be Jongdae.”

Jongdae laughs, throwing his head back. He’s picking snacks and drinks off the shelf shamelessly, tossing them towards Chanyeol. “Hey, hyung, would you prefer if we robbed you of big chunks every couple of months, or if we took smaller amounts more frequently?”

“Does it really make a difference if the final amount is going to be the same?” Minseok asks, sinking back into his chair. “Perhaps you should try not taking any money at all.”

“What a novel idea.” Jongdae says. “I’ll be sure to consider it.”

Chanyeol leans right over one of the shelves to whisper something to Jongdae. Jongdae whispers back, and takes a few more cups of ramen before zipping the bag up.

“Want to pay for that?” Minseok asks, as they pass the counter on their way out the store, Jongdae pausing just long enough to glitch the security feed as usual.

“No thanks.” Jongdae says. “Maybe next time.”

Minseok shakes his head, ready to turn back to his books when a thought strikes him.

“Jongdae!” he calls out, and the young man turns around, surprised. The chocolate bar that Minseok tosses at him nearly takes his eye out.

“Pass that to Baekhyun.” Minseok says.

Jongdae grins at him, looking pleased and amused. Minseok hears his laughter all the way out into the street.

-

“I feel like my life has become very repetitive these days.” Minseok says, using his chopsticks to move some of the chicken strips from his bowl into Jongdae’s. They’re sitting down on the deck of Jahayeon pond today, instead of up on the sidewalk where they first met, and they’re surrounded by couples and overexcited freshmen taking selcas. “If I’m not watching you eat, I’m watching Baekhyun eat.”

“You’re welcome.” Jongdae says, picking up a long strip of chicken and tilting his head back to swallow it, like a bird would a worm. Minseok watches the way the muscles of his jaw work around the food, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. There’s a grain of rice stuck to his lower lip.

“I thought Baekhyun was a messy eater, but honestly you’re just as bad.” Minseok says. “The only difference is you hid it better at the beginning.”

Jongdae grins at Minseok, tongue darting out to claim the bit of rice. “You pick up habits from the people you spend the most time with. Just you wait, hyung.”

“No thanks.” Minseok says. “I think I’ll be okay. I did live with Junmyeon for a year.”

“He sounds interesting, Junmyeon-ssi.” Jongdae says. “You two seem to be good friends.”

“Yeah.” Minseok says, setting his now-empty bowl down onto the ground beside him. He doesn’t mention that Junmyeon’s been asking about Jongdae and Baekhyun a lot recently, ever since Minseok mentioned them coming back to the convenience store in the weeks after the first robbery. For reasons he can’t quite determine yet, Minseok has so far evaded each question.

“Oh, before I forget,” Jongdae balances his bowl on one knee, dropping his fork into the bowl. He digs through the pockets of his jacket, and Minseok reaches out to take the bowl as it wobbles. Jongdae pulls out a small brown envelope, slightly creased at the corner.

“Here.” Jongdae says, handing it over. “You can have some of it back, we didn’t need that much after all.”

Minseok takes the envelope warily, peeling the flap back. Neatly pressed inside is a thin stack of bills. Minseok riffles through them— it’s eighty-thousand won. Minseok looks at it for a long while, and tucks the flap into the envelope again.

“You’re giving this back?” Minseok asks.

Jongdae winks at him, uncrossing his legs and picking up his bowl of food once more. He pats Minseok on the shoulder and resumes eating without a second thought, leaving Minseok feeling like something’s gone horribly wrong in the grand scheme of things.

- 

Minseok meets Junmyeon and Luhan for dinner in Gangnam on a Friday night at the beginning of spring. Luhan was an old friend from their undergraduate years at SNU, but unlike Minseok and Junmyeon, he had decided to go forth into the world instead of staying for graduate school.

They catch up in a tiny eatery overlooking a brightly-lit street, flashing neon lights reflecting across Junmyeon’s face from his seat beside the window. As always, when Minseok is out with them, the food is impeccable but also takes a sizable chunk out of Minseok’s wallet.

After dinner, they join the crowd of people milling up and down the streets, ducking past low-hanging signboards and under dozens of fairy lights. Many of the street stalls have just begun to set up, their goods ranging from sweet-smelling hotteok to the strange new line of singing lingerie.

Luhan checks his phone as they walk, looking up the latest bars and events for the night while Junmyeon muses that he’s getting too old for clubs. Either way, they both follow Luhan as he leads them through the maze of 24-hour coffee shops and fluorescent makeup stores.

At last, they find themselves on a street with more alcohol than coffee, makeup layered over smiling faces instead of still in boxes. Luhan points out a bar with a painted blue door, tucking his phone back in his pocket and quickening his pace.

Minseok trails behind a little, taking in the eclectic mix of music blaring out from each bar. He’s almost at the front door, just behind Junmyeon when he catches sight of something that makes him jerk backwards sharply.

“Minseok?” Junmyeon asks, holding the door half-open.

There’s a bright red sign in the window, just below a copy of the drinks list, and twice the size. Minseok can’t stop staring at it. His heart aches.

“Can we go somewhere else?” Minseok asks. Junmyeon frowns, following Minseok’s gaze. Someone pushes past them into the bar, and a girl steps out for a smoke, shoulders blocking the sign from view. But judging by the look on Junmyeon’s face, he’s already seen it. The printed red sign with the words ‘No Unnaturals Allowed.’

“It doesn’t even affect you, Minseok.” Junmyeon murmurs, but he steps down to join Minseok on the sidewalk, letting the door swing close. “You don’t have to keep worrying about them. Take a break for one night.”

The problem is, when Junmyeon refers to ‘them,’ he’s just talking about a nameless, faceless species. Even before, Minseok had never been able to detach himself from Unnaturals like that. And now, he has both names and faces. Knows the sound of their voices, their laughter, can imagine how excited they would be at a place like this. Only to find—

“I can’t, Junmyeon.” Minseok says. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

He thinks about Jongdae and Baekhyun coming into the convenience store that second time, drunk and happy, soft at the edges. He wonders how many bars they had to walk past before they found one that let them in.

“Please.” He says.

Junmyeon sighs softly. “Okay. I’ll go get Luhan.”

Luhan doesn’t say anything when they come out again, but he does glance over his shoulder at the sign hanging from the window.

“Come on.” He says, pulling his phone out again. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

And they do, a quieter establishment off the main road with disco balls swaying gently over the doorway. Luhan peeks his head into the bar and comes out again with two-thumbs up, and Minseok’s stunned into silence when he walks through the door to find a girl with blue hair behind the bar counter. 

“Okay?” Luhan asks, stepping on Junmyeon’s foot when he opens his mouth.

“Yeah.” Minseok says, and because his throat feels suddenly parched, offers to buy the first round of drinks.

“This is a pretty cool place.” Junmyeon says later, after he’s emptied all the coins from his wallet into the jukebox. Luhan is chatting with a colleague he ran into under a disco ball, and Minseok’s been sitting all night, staring at the girl with blue hair.

“Maybe we could come to more places like this next time.” Minseok says weakly.

Junmyeon considers, taking awhile before he nods, but it’s honest when he finally does. “Yeah, maybe we could.”

-

From Jongdae: _Hyung, we’re going for a picnic in Beodeul-gol, come join us~_

-

Baekhyun and Jongdae agree to wait for him at the bus stop outside the education building, and Minseok takes the stairs down from his classroom two at a time. His class had run several minutes late, and Minseok thinks he hears the sound of Baekhyun’s laughter even over the crowd of students lounging by the cafeteria.

Jongdae’s back is turned towards Minseok, but Minseok recognizes the long tan coat draped over his shoulders. It helps that he’s talking to someone who is essentially wearing what seems to be a brightly-coloured picnic blanket over his head.

“You let him out of the house like this?” Minseok says, yanking the blanket off Baekhyun’s head in greeting. Baekhyun lets out a surprised squeak, both him and Jongdae turning around to look at Minseok, identical bright grins sweeping onto their faces when they see that it’s him.

“Unfortunately, I bought that blanket.” Jongdae says loftily. “So it’s very much to my tastes.”

“As is the gift wrapped in it.” Baekhyun adds, making a kissy face.

“It was a free gift.” Jongdae says. “I didn’t get to pick.”

Minseok laughs, and Jongdae elbows Baekhyun out of the way so he can hand Minseok one of the bags he’s holding. Baekhyun’s whining about being mistreated on the other side, but Minseok doesn’t miss the way Jongdae’s hand curls around Baekhyun’s shoulder, squeezing tight.

“What’s this?” he says, looking down at the plastic bag. It’s stuffed so full Minseok can’t tell what’s in it, but there’s a mixture of delicious smells wafting out of the bag.

“Baekhyun brought us lunch.” Jongdae says. “It’s not a real picnic if we have to eat the same boring cafeteria food. Let’s hurry up, we’ve only got fifty minutes.”

Minseok can’t remember the last time he’d gone for a picnic out in the valley. He used to play football a little further down, just before the line of trees that mark the beginning of Gwanaksan. He has fond memories of drinking too, sometimes the entire class sprawling out on the grass after a lecture when they wanted to unwind. Minseok wonders, a little wistfully, why they stopped.

Jongdae finds a patch of grass a little farther from the usual picnic spots than usual. They don’t mention it, but Minseok looks at Baekhyun’s bright hair and cheerful demeanor and thinks he knows why. Part of Minseok is relieved, and he detests himself for it.

Baekhyun throws the blanket out on the damp grass, practically bouncing on his feet. Kicking off his shoes, he drops gracelessly onto the blanket, flat on his back. Jongdae and Minseok sit with more poise, setting the bags of food down.

“They’re still warm.” Minseok says, surprised. Even the closest street food stalls are at least half-an-hour away, it doesn’t seem possible.

“Well duh, I got Chanyeol to come with me.” Baekhyun says, explaining nothing at all. He props himself up on one elbow, watching Minseok open a container of fried dumplings. Minseok hands Baekhyun’s open palm an empty paper tray, and shakes two dumplings into it.

“Anything else?” he asks, and Baekhyun’s smile goes absolutely dazzling. He points towards the egg bread, and the cheese sausages. Minseok spoons a helping of each into Baekhyun’s tray.

“You’re the best, hyung.” Baekhyun sighs happily, sinking back into the picnic blanket with his earnings. “Jongdae hasn’t served me food in years, he’s always too busy eating.”

“What are you talking about,” Jongdae grumbles, but he’s already halfway through a chicken skewer, sauce smeared against one cheekbone. Baekhyun laughs at him. 

Minseok takes a skewer for himself, working around the generous portion of chicken. The sauce is thick and juicy, roasted peppers cooked to a perfect crunch. He hasn’t tasted anything this delicious in ages. When he finally lifts his attention from the food, he catches Jongdae staring at him. 

“What?” he asks.

Jongdae smiles. The sauce is still painted against his face, it lifts with the smile. “Nothing. You look happy, hyung. It’s nice.”

Minseok feels his face pinken. “The food’s good.” he says, even though he knows it’s more than that. He’s used to eating extravagant meals, and in comparison, this should be nothing. It’s cheap street food, but it doesn’t taste like any that Minseok’s had before. Maybe Baekhyun knows all the best stalls, an insider knowledge gleaned from years of curious persistence. Maybe Chanyeol has something to do with it. Or maybe, it’s something else entirely.

Baekhyun plants his feet against Jongdae’s thigh. His socks look familiar, pink-and-white stripes, and his sweater rides up to expose a strip of skin when Jongdae moves his legs. It’s a sweater he’s worn before, the words ‘don’t get caught’ printed across the front, and Minseok wouldn’t be surprised if he’d bought it specifically for the irony, but it looks good on him, even with the green clashing terribly with his hair. “We should do this every day.” Baekhyun says, unaware of Minseok’s wandering thoughts, half dozing beneath the sun.

He looks so happy, Minseok thinks. It’s a strange sight, his orange hair, light eyeliner and distinct jewelry, the laughter on his face.

He’s never seen an Unnatural look this happy, Minseok realizes. He didn’t think it was possible, for Unnaturals to be happy. He’s seen them excited, conversation loud and cackling, as they strut the street in packs, has heard their overzealous laughter and stepped aside to watch them pass. But this is different. There’s a radiance in Baekhyun’s joy that Minseok can only dream of, sweet and utterly carefree beneath the warm sun. 

“You have work and I have class. We’ve got bigger plans for the future, Baekhyunnie.” Jongdae says, tickling Baekhyun’s exposed stomach with a stick of fried squid.

“Hey!” Baekhyun says, swatting him away and pulling his shirt down. “Hasn’t Kyungsoo taught you not to play with your food? Feed me, Jongdae.”

Jongdae breaks off a leg and tosses it towards Baekhyun’s open mouth, rejoicing when it lands in the little dip beneath Baekhyun’s right eye.

Minseok laughs at the aggrieved expression on Baekhyun’s face, and reaches down to flick the piece into Baekhyun’s mouth. “ ‘hank you.” Baekhyun says cheerfully. “You should have some, hyung, these are good.”

Jongdae hands Minseok the stick of squid over his head, and rests fully on Baekhyun’s legs to inspect the rest of their food, sitting up to eat when he finds the cup of spicy chicken bites. 

“Gimme.” Baekhyun demands, and Jongdae drops two pieces of chicken into Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun chokes, sitting up and shoving Jongdae so hard the picnic blanket twists all the way beneath them.

Minseok rescues the cup of chicken while they squabble, swatting Baekhyun’s foot when it comes dangerously close to the rest of their food. He can’t take his eyes off them, their relentless bickering combined with fleeting smiles and gentle touches. It’s a perfectly choreographed performance, a story built on trust and history.

“You’re the bane of my existence, Kim Jongdae.” Baekhyun says, when they both flop back onto the blanket, Jongdae’s head resting against Baekhyun’s chest. Minseok swallows unconsciously, handing Jongdae the chicken bites when Jongdae reaches for it. And Baekhyun, sandwiched between the both of them, smiles up at Minseok and curls his fingers around Minseok’s thigh.

-

When Minseok’s busy studying for a test, or engrossed in his papers, he lets Baekhyun behind the counter to help with the customers. Minseok hadn’t been hired for his service, just his dependability, whereupon Baekhyun’s an enthusiastic worker, bright as sunshine and voice endlessly chipper. With the help of a few well-placed illusions, not a single customer guesses that an Unnatural lies beneath the smiling façade.

It’s not the ideal solution, but Baekhyun does it anyway, knowing that things would go south quickly if word ever got back to Minseok’s boss about an Unnatural in the store. It’s a risk that neither of them are willing to take, especially with Mr. Song dropping by every so often.

As it is, Minseok doesn’t need the help, considering the low amount of store traffic. Yet he finds it strangely endearing, seeing Baekhyun carefully count each bill and put them in the register. It’s a welcome change from the usual sight of Baekhyun taking money, and Baekhyun’s always so focused, pretty fingers considering each bill like a new masterpiece. There’s a vaguely uneasy feeling in Minseok’s gut over how he’s starting to expect Baekhyun’s nightly visits, and the sense of disappointment that always swells through him on the nights Baekhyun fails to show up.

Fortunately, if Baekhyun has any obligations apart from a convenience store after dark, they are few and far between. More often than not, Minseok’s nights are filled with Baekhyun’s lively chatter, his curious questions and clever wit, his continuous spilled tidbits about Jongdae that Minseok tucks away in the back of his mind.

The only problem with this new installment is that Jongdae comes over to pick Baekhyun up sometimes, which isn’t a problem in itself, except that when Minseok is unlucky, they decide they need money.

“See you tonight,” Jongdae had said after lunch earlier, and Minseok plastered on the most dismal expression he could muster.

“I know you’re not going to zap me.” Minseok says presently, as Baekhyun picks the money out of the cash register, Jongdae standing between them with his hands sparking minutely. “There’s no threat anymore. You told me during lunch today that you cried watching Mamma Mia.”

“I knew it!” Baekhyun crows, thumping Jongdae on the back. He lifts the tray of money to peek underneath it, continuing to bat Jongdae with the other hand. “I knew you were crying, wait until I tell Chanyeol!”

Jongdae gives Minseok a betrayed look, pulling Baekhyun’s hood over his face.

“Second-last time, hyung.” Jongdae says. “Promise. We’ll go rob someone else after that.”

“Nothing about what you just said makes me feel any better.” Minseok complains. Baekhyun closes the register again and hands the notes over for Minseok to count. Minseok takes it automatically, used to the process by now, and jots the sum down in the margin of his notes so he can make up the difference later. 

“Just take it and go.” Minseok growls. “I’ve got work to do.”

 -

A few weeks later finds Baekhyun quizzing Minseok for a test, legs curled up beneath the chair that Minseok now keeps behind the counter for this exact purpose. He’s up to his elbows in Minseok’s books, open bag of jelly resting on one thigh and leaving sugary fingerprints all over Minseok’s papers. 

“You got four questions wrong.” Baekhyun informs Minseok, peering at the book in his lap. He’s been fidgety all night, frowning darkly at the books and tugging at the holes in his ripped jeans. “Mostly from section two. I don’t like this class. I liked the last one better. It drives me a little crazy, reading things like article three  _‘workers not subject to discrimination on the grounds of gender, age, physical condition, social status_ —”

“Let’s stop studying for awhile.” Minseok interrupts. As a rule, he’s generally shied away from most forms of physical contact, but around Baekhyun and Jongdae he’s terrible at remembering to keep his distance. “Come here.”

Baekhyun launches straight into Minseok’s arms, fingers clinging to his shirt. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles, and Minseok runs a hand through his hair, reaching out with the other to ease the books off Baekhyun’s lap.

“It’s okay.” Minseok says. “You don’t have to study with me, you know. I’ll have a better class next term.”

“It’s not the studying.” Baekhyun says, voice tiny. Minseok startles at the despairing timbre of Baekhyun’s tone. “I’m sorry for coming in and stealing things all the time. I’m sorry that I keep coming back here, I’m sorry that you work so much and I just keep taking all of your pay—”

His voice peters off and Baekhyun buries his face in Minseok’s shirt before continuing. “I don’t want to do this to you, but I keep coming back. Jongdae suggested we find someone else, and I wouldn’t let him.”

“Shh.” Minseok says, cupping a hand over the nape of Baekhyun’s neck, rubbing gently. “I know you need the money, I stopped minding awhile back." 

“We haven’t robbed anyone else since  _March_.” Baekhyun confesses, holding tight even as he apologizes, making promises to stay away. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Minseok says, giving Baekhyun a firm shake. “Don’t go anywhere else.”

Baekhyun’s eyes brim with tears. “But—”

Minseok thumbs a tear away, and another one immediately takes its place. “It’s okay.” He tells Baekhyun. “It’s been okay for a long time now.”

“It’s not.” Baekhyun protests. “Do you know how much money we’ve taken? You bought me new clothes. You paid for Jongdae’s textbooks last semester. Kyungsoo brought home  _strawberries_  the other day and they weren’t even expired.”

“Don’t eat expired strawberries.” Minseok says, lightly flicking at Baekhyun’s arm. “I’ll buy you strawberries. Baekhyunnie, I’m serious. I want you to keep coming back here.”

Baekhyun covers his face with both hands, struggling to regain his composure. Minseok continues stroking the back of Baekhyun’s neck, smitten by the way he melts into Minseok’s touch.

“I’ll buy you strawberry cake next week.” Minseok says, and Baekhyun’s shoulders hitch again. “Jongdae mentioned that your birthday is coming soon, isn’t it?”

“Be quiet, hyung.” Baekhyun mumbles. “I’m trying not to cry.”

Minseok laughs and tugs on Baekhyun’s earlobe, ruffling his hair again, but obligingly falls silent.

It’s a few minutes before Baekhyun peeks out again. “Okay.” He says, pulling away from Minseok and returning to his seat. “You go back to studying. I’ll give you a jelly if you get everything right the next time." 

“I gave you that bag of jelly.” Minseok says, but settles into place anyway. Baekhyun treats him with a sliver of a smile.

Jongdae comes in forty minutes later, by which time Minseok’s earned himself two meager pieces of jelly. “How’s the studying coming along?” Jongdae asks, settling comfortably in Baekhyun’s lap. Baekhyun squeaks, wrapping his arms around Jongdae’s middle. Minseok’s glad to see he’s bounced back from his earlier breakdown, even though Minseok genuinely appreciates the heartfelt apology. “Article thirty-four still giving you trouble?” 

Minseok gives Jongdae an appraising look. “What do you even know about article thirty-four?”

Jongdae pats Baekhyun’s thigh. “This one talks in his sleep. Ever since he’s started studying with you, I’ve been learning some really weird things.”

“It’s not that weird.” Baekhyun protests.

“It’s cute, if a bit creepy.” Jongdae says. “Nothing like falling asleep to criminal rights being recited in my ear. Anyway, if you don’t need him, I want my bed-warmer back.” Jongdae says, slinging an arm around Baekhyun’s neck.

“Just last week you said sleeping with me was like sleeping with a sweaty and distasteful slab of meat.” Baekhyun says, raising his chin. The ice machine kicks to life in the corner, spitting a few chunks of ice out onto the tray. Baekhyun stands quickly, displacing Jongdae from his lap to collect a cup of ice chips. Jongdae complains loudly, but it’s short-lived when Baekhyun returns and plasters himself against Jongdae’s back.

“Imagine that.” Jongdae says. “I don’t know what’s happened to me, that I’m starting to  _miss_  it.”

“Aww, Jongdae.” Baekhyun croons, around a mouthful of ice. “Of course I’ll let you take me home. Wanna buy me dinner first?” he asks.

“It’s two in the morning.” Jongdae says.

“Breakfast, then.”

“At two in the morning?” Minseok repeats.

“Will an egg sandwich do?” Jongdae asks, and Minseok can see where this is going before Jongdae even makes his way to the food display.

Baekhyun accepts the day-old sandwich happily, hugging it to his chest, and Minseok makes an aborted, helpless gesture.

“If you steal Minseokkie’s food and give it to me, does that mean hyung is buying me breakfast instead?” Baekhyun wonders aloud.

-

News travels fast even on a campus as big as Seoul National University, and Minseok would know if there were any Classified Unnaturals on campus apart from Zhang Yixing. There had been a few over the years, Minseok thinks, but none of them lasted more than a couple of semesters before transferring out. As for unreported ones, the number could be anywhere from single digits to high doubles. Minseok has no idea.

What he does know is that there’s something strangely thrilling about having lunch with Kim Jongdae on campus every week, knowing that Jongdae could power an entire building with a wave of his hand, and yet camouflages daily amongst the other students without a hitch.

While they often eat around the Jahayeon and Law building, today they’ve made their way to the crowded student center. The weather is good and no one wants to be indoors, so the sidewalks and benches are overflowing with students.

Jongdae secures them a table near the edge of the steps, setting their trays of tteokbokki down it only to find that it wobbles precariously.

“If we sit on opposite ends and try not to move too much it might be okay.” Jongdae suggests. Minseok clicks his tongue, crouching on the ground and inspecting the broken leg.

“Pass me my notebook.” Minseok says, reaching over the table for it. Jongdae puts the book into his hand.

“Is it a magic trick?” Jongdae teases, watching as Minseok flips through the pages of his book. Minseok pries out a few sheets from his latest rejected outline, folding it over several times and sliding it between the gap.

“Try it.” Minseok says, looking up at Jongdae, squinting against the sun. Jongdae attempts to shake the table, but it remains mostly still. Minseok nods, brushing dirt off his hands and knees, getting into the seat beside Jongdae.

Jongdae’s watching him strangely. Minseok raises his eyebrows. Jongdae flushes pink, running a hand through his hair.

“I was just thinking, you’re not anything like I imagined when we first met.” Jongdae says. “It’s a good thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you weren’t thinking much about me except for the size of my pocket.” Minseok says, even though he’s smiling.

“They’re really deep pockets.” Jongdae says. “I underestimated them too.”

Minseok snorts, tucking into his food and feeling satisfied when the table doesn’t wobble.

“Sometimes I feel like we don’t deserve you.” Jongdae says, out of nowhere. Minseok pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Jongdae meets his gaze sheepishly. “I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but I was so terrified when you discovered Baekhyun that first night. We’d usually do stores without ever being seen, but those few months, Baekhyun was getting rather bad backlash from using his powers so sometimes we had to risk it." 

“God, it was so dangerous.” Jongdae says. “Every time Baekhyun walked into a store I thought my heart was going to stop. We got caught a couple of times, and all of them were— very different from the way you reacted. You didn’t even raise your voice once, and you let us go so easily. Baekhyun was enamoured, drinking his strawberry milk and talking about how great you were the entire trip home.”

Minseok laughs, a little charmed. He remembers the night clearly. “I thought you were trouble, but I was surprised how gentle you were. You even thanked me, and it sounded like you meant it.”

“You have no idea how much I meant it. You’re really too good for us, hyung.” Jongdae says, and Minseok frowns at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t think I feel the same sometimes?” Minseok counters. “When I’m being  _old_  and  _boring_  and the two of you crash into my life like a burst of fireworks?”

Jongdae’s pleased blush shoots a spark right through Minseok’s chest. Neither of them speak for several minutes, busying themselves with their food, but Minseok can’t take the grin off his face. He glances at Jongdae again, gratified to find his lips fully curled upwards.

“Hey, Jongdae, speaking of friends, are you still interested in talking to Zhang Yixing?” Minseok asks, his gaze catching on something in the distance.

“What? Why?”

“He’s standing right there.” Minseok says, nodding towards the center of the eating area, where Yixing is holding a sandwich and looking around for a place to sit. Jongdae catches sight of him and abruptly goes pale, turning to grab Minseok’s arm as if Minseok’s already raising it to call out to Yixing.

It’s not that Minseok knows Yixing very well either. Minseok watches Yixing often, wondering, but every time Yixing comes within a ten-foot radius, Minseok’s courage always gives out. But with Jongdae beside him, for the first time in years, Minseok feels daring enough. He leans in towards Jongdae, extracting his arm from Jongdae’s death grip.

“Hyung,” Jongdae hisses, reaching out again, the position of his new grip introducing Minseok to nails as sharp as claws.

“We won’t talk about powers,” Minseok promises. “Just small talk. I’ll ask him what he thinks about pop idols or something like that, it’ll be really tame. Don’t you want to get to know him better?”

Jongdae stutters. His hands are shaking as he grips onto Minseok, and Minseok’s resolve falters a little. “We don’t have to.” he says.

“I  _want_  to.” Jongdae says. “But I don’t know if I can.” 

“You don’t have to speak to him. I’ll do the talking. Making friends with me worked out for you, didn’t it?” Minseok says. He has no idea where all this confidence is coming from. Watching Jongdae’s frightened, longing expression makes him want to do everything he can to soothe it.

“What do you even know about idols?” Jongdae whispers. Yixing’s too far away to hear them, but Minseok whispers back anyway, “I know enough, I’ll make the rest of it up. I doubt he’d know anyway.”

This time Jongdae lets out a loud, jittery laugh, and promptly shields his face when a couple of students sitting close by look over at them. 

“Okay…?” Jongdae says, and it sounds more like a question than any certainty, but Minseok squeezes his hand and then raises his arm to wave Yixing over. Jongdae digs his fingernails into Minseok’s arms, and lets go as soon as Yixing notices them.

“Hi,” Yixing says, smiling. He looks surprised but pleased, he’s known Minseok by sight for years now, but they’ve never spoken beyond a simple greeting or polite nod. “Should I sit down?” 

“Unless you enjoy eating while standing.” Jongdae says brightly, every inch of his earlier terror gone. His smile is flawless, and when he introduces himself to Yixing, he even reaches out to shake Yixing’s hand without the slightest hesitation. Despite his promises to talk to Yixing, Minseok finds himself watching, enthralled, until Jongdae nudges his leg.

“Hey Yixing,” Minseok says. Then, catching Jongdae staring at him, accidentally segues straight into “What do you think about idols?”

“Oh?” Yixing says, taken aback. Minseok cringes, but then Yixing says, “They're great, who do you listen to?”

Twenty minutes later, Yixing excuses himself to go back to the labs. Jongdae immediately sags against Minseok’s shoulder the moment Yixing is out of sight, heartbeat muted against Minseok’s palm when he gently rests his hand over Jongdae’s back.

“Thank you.” Jongdae whispers.

-

As summer descends upon them, Minseok feels a heaviness seep into his bones, catching colds when the weather is perfectly sunny, headaches coming and going as frequently as Seoul’s summer storms. Upon learning this, Jongdae constantly brings Minseok home-remedies that taste like shredded paper, while Baekhyun claims that patbingsu is the cure to all ailments, and between the both of their well-meant fussing Minseok almost never has a moment to wallow in peace. 

Meanwhile, the school year is drawing to a close, and Minseok’s books are stacked higher than ever. Professor Lee’s been lecturing him about the indecisive state of his thesis outline for several weeks now, but the longer Minseok spends researching each topic, the less he wants to write any of them.

He’s on draft number five for his current topic, laptop stalling from how many tabs he has open in addition to the abundant pile of books he’d checked out from the library earlier. On his left, Baekhyun is lying with his head on the counter, playing some game on his phone that seems to be powered by the volume of his voice. Minseok’s tuned him out ages ago, and doesn’t notice there’s a customer until a large grape popsicle is shoved into his face.

“Mister, your ice cream is frozen solid.” the little girl holding it says, resting her chin on the counter as she looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes. Minseok puts his pen down to take it from her. It’s slightly on the harder side, but since it’s summer that only means it’ll take longer to melt once she’s out in the open again. Minseok tells her this, and she considers it for several seconds before handing the crumpled bill in her hand over.

“Aren’t you a bit too tiny to be out here by yourself at this hour?” Baekhyun asks the little girl, who stares right back at him. His hair is a pastel shade of pink, and Minseok wonders if it’s scoring him any points or if her parents had warned her about talking to funny-haired strangers.

“My older brother’s waiting outside.” She tells Baekhyun. “So don’t try anything weird.”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows at Minseok, and Minseok shrugs.

“You should always make sure your ice cream is in good shape.” The girl informs Minseok. “I really wanted the orange flavor, but it was like picking up a brick.” 

“Sorry.” Minseok says gravely. “I’ll have a look at it.”

She nods, turning back to Baekhyun, who gives her a small wave. She doesn’t wave back, but she’s still staring at him when Minseok hands over the change and her ice cream, and finally gives him a lopsided hand flick. 

“You’re cute.” Baekhyun tells Minseok, once the girl has gone. “I get the feeling you’d be really good with children.”

“I must be.” Minseok agrees, stretching his arms out above his head. “I’ve managed to put up with you all this while, haven’t I?”

“No need to be rude.” Baekhyun sulks, picking up his phone again.

Minseok turns back to his notes, twirling his pen.  _Enforcement Decree of Anti-Discrimination,_  the headline reads. Eighty-three pages of text and not a single mention of mutant protection. He puts his pen down.  

“Baekhyun? Can I ask you something personal?”

“Mm?” Baekhyun taps on his phone screen and the music comes to a stop. He props himself up on one arm, lock of hair falling over his face. 

“Are you Marked?” Minseok asks.

It's something Minseok's strongly suspected all this while.  It feels like the answer should be obvious, especially since Baekhyun’s always worn a jacket or long sleeves of some kind, even on the warmer nights. But while a good indication of what he might be hiding, there’s never been any actual proof.

“That’s a very personal question.” Baekhyun says, after a pause.

“You don’t have to answer.” Minseok says, watching the way Baekhyun closes a hand over his left wrist.

Baekhyun shakes his head, searching Minseok’s face. “I mean, if I refuse to answer, it’ll make you even more suspicious, won’t it?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind.” Minseok says, suddenly guilty. “You never have trouble talking about anything else.”

The way Baekhyun’s looking at him, Minseok’s sure he isn’t going to get an answer. Then Baekhyun sits back in his chair. “It’s not that I mind.” He says, swallowing. He doesn’t continue.

Minseok reaches out, not quite touching, but hovering just over Baekhyun’s arm. “May I?”

Baekhyun glances over his shoulder towards the door. No one’s coming even close to the front door, and none of the approaching passerbys seem intent on changing that. He turns back to Minseok, steeling himself.

“It’s. Not pretty.” Baekhyun says. “Even Jongdae hates looking at it.”

“I don’t believe that’s true. Jongdae isn’t the type to hate something because it isn’t pretty.” Minseok reminds him. When Baekhyun wavers, letting Minseok’s fingers brush against his warm skin, Minseok continues, “Neither am I.”

“Um.” Baekhyun says, flushing under Minseok’s gaze. “Please don’t be horrified.”

He squeezes his hands together tightly, and very slowly, pulls his sleeve up.

Minseok’s seen images of the Unnatural ID, a small hexagonal tattoo on the inside of the left wrist. It isn’t an ugly design by any means, but everything about it spells misfortune for the bearer. Yet, instead of the dark ink Minseok expects to see, wrapped across Baekhyun’s exposed wrist is a netting of patchy, uneven skin, angry red ridges and a burn in the shape of fingerprints. 

Baekhyun’s barely breathing as he holds his hand out for Minseok to inspect, trembling noticeably. Mind reeling from the sight, Minseok takes hold of Baekhyun’s outstretched arm, gently thumbing the side of a raised patch of pink flesh. 

“What’s this?”

“Chanyeol— he. I wanted to get rid of the Mark so badly, I made him do it even though he was so scared, and—” Baekhyun shakes his head and jerks away, flinching when Minseok catches his wrist again.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s ugly, we can pretend this never happened—” Baekhyun says, batting against Minseok without any real strength. More than anything, every inch of his body seems to be begging,  _please don’t let go_.

“Shut up, Baekhyun.” Minseok says, and Baekhyun is startled into silence. He looks at Minseok with wide eyes as Minseok pushes his sleeve up again, shivering as Minseok’s fingers lock against his bare skin.

“Does it still hurt?” Minseok asks quietly.

“No, it’s just… surprising.” Baekhyun says. “Not even Jongdae touches it like that. I know it hurts him, and I try not to let Chanyeol see it either. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for it.”

Minseok’s insides are warring with himself. He can’t stop thinking of young Baekhyun, freshly tagged and desperate enough to try anything to get rid of it. Minseok loathes the mutant system with every fiber of his being, people handed a deck of losing cards with no way to improve the odds. The repulsiveness of it makes Minseok’s stomach churn, and for a moment Minseok feels like he’s trapped in a wave, hearing and vision gone fuzzy.

“Hyung?” Baekhyun whispers, jolting Minseok from the illusion. His gaze is focused on something just above them, but flickers back to Minseok when Minseok rests two fingers over his wrist again. Baekhyun pulls back, clasping a hand over the faded injury.

“You said it didn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t— it shouldn’t.” Baekhyun says, but his gaze is slowly returning elsewhere. He squeezes Minseok’s hand when Minseok reaches for him again, but the soft, intimate gesture is broken by the distracted expression on his face, eyes growing increasingly worried.

“What is it?” Minseok finally asks, releasing Baekhyun.

“Your hands.” Baekhyun whispers. “They’re really cold. And—” Shakily, he points at the clock over Minseok’s shoulder. At first it looks like the glass has cracked, but when Minseok leans in to inspect it, he realizes that it’s not the clock. Instead, it’s a thin layer of perfectly clear ice that has formed over the surface, now shattering before Minseok’s very eyes.

Minseok’s heart drops to his toes.

“You have to leave.” Minseok says, whipping away from the sight and pushing Baekhyun back around the counter. Baekhyun’s face twists in confusion, reaching a hand towards the clock. Minseok cuts him off, steering him towards the door.

“Hyung?”

“Go.” Minseok says. “Please, go.”

Baekhyun reaches for Minseok’s arm, and in a moment of instinctive panic, Minseok lashes out, shoving him against the magazine rack. Even with his world crumbling around him, Minseok doesn’t miss the flicker of sheer panic that crosses Baekhyun’s eyes when he throws both arms up to shield himself. 

“I’m sorry.” Minseok gasps, recoiling. Baekhyun’s face is pale, hands trembling as he holds them up in front of himself. Minseok’s familiar with this. He sees it in the Unnaturals he pass on the street sometimes, watching him with apprehensive looks until he walks away. He saw it in Jongdae, the first time he approached Jongdae at university, sees it in Baekhyun’s face when a customer walks in and he promptly vanishes from sight.

Minseok sees it in himself, all the time.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and wrenches away from Baekhyun. “You have to go. Please, I need to be alone.”

Baekhyun stares at him, lowering his hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. With both hands still partially pulled back to his chest, Minseok’s gaze hones in on Baekhyun’s wrist, sleeve still pushed up to reveal the mottled burn across otherwise pink skin. The ringing in his ears is deafening.

“This isn’t— it’s not what it looks like, I swear. Baekhyun, just go.” His voice is equal parts demanding and pleading, feet feeling like lead weights when he takes a step back to let Baekhyun pass.

Something in Minseok’s face must speak more convincingly than Minseok’s words, because Baekhyun takes a deep breath and nods. “Call me later.” He whispers. “Please.”

Minseok locks the door behind Baekhyun, haphazardly plastering the ‘be right back’ sign to the glass before stumbling to the back room and dropping to his knees. It takes almost twenty minutes before the world stops rattling, and his legs wobble when he finally takes the sign down and sinks back behind the counter. 

No one comes through the door for the rest of his shift, for which Minseok should be grateful, but instead feels alone. The clock ticks merrily over Minseok’s head, without a trace of what had occurred earlier, and Minseok wonders, if his time has run out.

-

The thing is, Minseok’s always been attuned to the cold. The temperature of his dorm room is always lower than normal, and he’s able to sit outside during the winter sometimes wearing nothing but a thin jacket. The ice in his coffee never melts unless he wants it to, and Minseok’s never told anyone this, but there was a semester his junior year where Minseok never had to plug in the refrigerator, because it was already  _so cold_  all the time.

It doesn’t mean anything, Minseok tells himself. The universe has always had its unexplained mysteries, and not every weird story was connected to the existence of superpowers.

So when he wakes up the next morning to find ice cubes all over his bedroom floor, Minseok does his best not to panic.

 _It’s nothing,_  he tells himself, as he collects the cubes in a cup and tosses them into the sink.

 _It’s nothing,_  he tells himself, as he takes a hot shower, puts on his clothes, towel-dries his hair and deliberately refuses to look at the ice cubes still frozen in the sink.

 _Please,_  Minseok prays, as he walks across the quad towards the law building.  _Please, be nothing._

But the truth is, Minseok’s known it was something since he was sixteen and woke up to a bedroom floor coated in sleet.

Now, more than ten years later, Minseok still has no idea what to do.

-

Minseok often looks back on the first few years after he’d discovered that he was different, playing out before his eyes like a story that happened to someone else. His parents had discovered him frantically cleaning his room that same morning, tears streaming down his face that he wasn’t aware of. His panic made the temperature dip so low that one of the first things his mother had done was get their winter jackets from deep within the closet.

When Minseok detaches himself from the horror of that morning, he can almost laugh at the memory: sitting there at the dining table, all three of them bundled up in puffy layers in the sweltering heat of summer.

“I know this place,” his mother had said, “Far from here.”

His father made him breakfast while his mother talked on the phone in a low voice, her eyes sad and her hair still up in curlers. Three days later, Minseok was on a flight to Shanghai.

“Why?” His little sister had asked, watching him pack his things. Sixteen years of his life, shrunk to fit into a single suitcase. It hadn’t been hard. Minseok picked each item up, and thought, the only thing he ever needed again was to fit in. 

“What if you don’t like it there?” She had asked, on the doorstep of their house, as he carried his bags to the car the morning of his flight. She wasn’t allowed to go to the airport with them, but it didn’t bother her all that much. She had friends coming over in an hour, and was more concerned with whether they had enough snacks in the kitchen. 

She gives him a hug just before he leaves, the sudden warmth startling even though the sun has been high in the sky all morning.

On the way to the airport, the car drives by several of Minseok’s old friends, football being passed back and forth lazily on their way to the field. The invitation sits, unopened, on Minseok’s phone. Minseok will read it later, on the airplane, in a bare bedroom in the middle of a city he can’t make sense of, on the days when his powers get ahead of him and  _Laoshi_  Huang sends him back to his room with a disappointed look. He reads their messages so many times he has even the dates and times of them memorized, and when eventually Minseok’s name is struck from the chat group, he stares at the empty screen until his vision is blurry. 

Two years after leaving for China, he graduates from a nameless high school in the outskirts of rural Shanghai. He sees his parents for the first time since he left, standing at the back of the tiny ceremony, and takes them out for dinner after.

Time passes. Minseok learns to settle in China, has a new name, a new identity, and he’s successfully hidden his power for years now. Similar to South Korea, China does not look out for their Unnaturals, but Minseok can look out for himself now. Minseok is safe in this new life, twenty-one years old and knowing that he will never be anything more than ordinary.

It’s everything Minseok’s ever wanted, and yet.

It isn’t enough.

 -

A year and a half later, Minseok steps beneath the towering gate of Seoul National University, heartbeat hammering in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Having hidden this part of himself away for so long, he feels like an imposter here. But no. Minseok is smart, he’s hardworking, and as far as anyone knows, he’s just like everyone else at the university.

This time, he’ll make it work. 

He has to.

-

Following the incident, Minseok unravels, and puts himself together tighter than before. He’s a year away from graduating from the most prestigious law school in South Korea, and there’s no room for him to be slipping.

He spends half-an-hour every morning and night meditating, and for most part sits through his lectures with nothing more than a sick, cloying feeling under his skin. No one notices if his papers are always a little damp at the corners, and he hides the frozen pallor of his skin with oversized jackets without issue, considering how cold the classrooms already are.

Professor Lee has finally green-lit his thesis, after asking him countless times if he was certain he wanted to write two-hundred pages on pharmaceutical acquisitions. Her expression had seemed skeptical, but she’d approved it at last. The first thing Minseok had wanted to do was call Baekhyun or Jongdae, who’d both listened to him talk about his outline for weeks on end. Then he remembers that he isn’t talking to them.

Because it’s the sacrifice.

Minseok isn’t supposed to be spending his nights laughing in a convenience store, flirting over the pages of a textbook. He isn’t supposed to be spending lunches with an Unnatural-in-hiding, isn’t supposed to involve himself with that world, period.

When he’d returned to Seoul five years ago, he’d promised he’d be just like everyone else. Anything different was to be kept secret. To be tamped down, tossed aside. The news always sang praise about successful outliers, but none of the differences ever included genetics.

Every morning, Minseok wakes up with a dreary chill settled over his dorm room, cold water running in the taps. For years he’s been getting by with barely a trace of his powers, but all at once it’s come back tenfold. Minseok wonders if it’s his punishment, for forgetting. 

Baekhyun texts him periodically, complaining about work or being bored, often attaching selfies or unflattering photographs of Jongdae. It’s mostly innocent, everyday messages, peppered once in awhile with worried ‘hope you’re okay, hyung’s and ‘call me if you need to talk’s. Jongdae invites him out for lunch every day, his messages just as innocuous as Baekhyun’s. Minseok knows they must be dying to speak to him.

He reads all their messages and says nothing.

-

As he crosses the street towards the law building, Minseok notices the person camped beneath the row of poplars. He’s not even close enough to know for sure that it’s a student, but gets an uneasy sense of foreboding all the same.

Minseok stops walking the moment he’s safely off the road, but Jongdae’s already seen him. It doesn’t occur to Minseok that perhaps he should meet Jongdae halfway until Jongdae comes up right beside him. 

“Good morning.” He says, studying Minseok up and down tentatively.

“Hey.” Minseok returns with a tight smile. He considers inching around Jongdae, and takes a couple of steps forward, only to have Jongdae block his path, looking confused. 

“You’re really early today.” Jongdae says. “Can we talk? Baekhyun and I have been worried.” 

Minseok shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Just some stuff I’m working through.” Minseok nearly laughs aloud at himself. Jongdae’s not stupid, and there’s no way Baekhyun hasn’t told him exactly what happened in the store.

“We could help, you know.” Jongdae says. “I live in a house of four supernaturals. You think all of us just magically learned to control it?”

“I’m not— it’s not the same.” Minseok says. “I’m handling it.” 

Jongdae reaches out, and plucks at one of Minseok’s fingertips. He holds the small ice shard up for Minseok to see before dropping it to the ground.

“Handling it.” Jongdae repeats.

“I can’t talk.” Minseok says, turning away. “I have to get to class.”

“So after class is fine, right?” Jongdae says casually. “I’ll wait for you.”

Minseok’s step falters.

“We’re just… really confused, hyung.” Jongdae says, moving to stand in front of Minseok again. “Do you want help? Do you need more time? What is it?”

The concerned expression on his face wrenches at Minseok’s heart.

“It might be best if we stopped hanging out.” Minseok says, staring down at the ground. 

Jongdae reels back as though he’d been struck.

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t do this, Jongdae.” Minseok says. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Jongdae’s expression creases, still more confused than angry. “Can’t do what? Make friends? Have fun? Treat Unnaturals like actual human beings instead of criminals?”

“It’s not— I just don’t think it would work out.” Minseok says. 

“Oh. So you’re just going to get everything under control and go back to pretending like you did before?” Jongdae asks. Minseok hates how composed he seems. As it is, the crushed, disbelieving look on Jongdae's face makes Minseok feel like dirt.   _He isn't._  He's just trying to do what's right, Jongdae _doesn't understand_ —

Jongdae presses a hand to his temples. “How can you want to go back to the way you were before? I know we made you happy. God, it was so good to see you opening up, laughing and joking with us, why would you want to get rid of that?”

“What are you afraid of? You think hanging out with an Unnatural is contagious?” The laugh that follows is bitter.  “Well, newsflash for you, hyung. You didn’t catch it from us. You already had it. And staying away from us isn’t going to change that.”

“This isn’t fair.” Minseok says, his voice cracking. “I never asked for this. I had it all planned out for years, and then the both of you come in and mess it all up! I haven’t lost control like this since I was sixteen, and now suddenly everything I touch turns into ice!”

“Don’t shout.” Jongdae says, glancing over his shoulder. “Are you trying to get yourself reported?” 

Minseok steps around him. “Does it matter? Haven’t you already gone down to the station to report me? I hear there’s an enormous reward for people who turn in powerful Unnaturals, you wouldn’t even have to steal anymore. You picked a great store to rob that night, didn’t you?  _Lucky you_.” 

He’s made it to the front door when Jongdae grabs his arm, spinning him around roughly. “Are you serious?” Jongdae snarls, and he’s definitely angry now.

“Just leave me alone!” Minseok says, tearing away and shoving the door open. There’s a girl standing on the other side of it, and she looks just as startled to see them as they are to see her. She bows and darts out the door, and Minseok forges deeper down the corridor.

“Do you want me to follow you to class and talk? Because I will.” Jongdae calls out from behind him. 

Minseok whirls on him. “What else do you have to say, Jongdae?” Minseok asks, dragging a hand through his hair, because the alternative is reaching for Jongdae instead. With all the anger and power surging through him, he’s afraid he’s going to set something off. The clawing feeling is back under his skin, and Minseok pushes out the door again as strongly as he’d entered, curving around the building towards the empty picnic tables.

Finally, when they’re hidden in the secluded spot, Minseok faces Jongdae again. There’s ice crunching in the grass beneath their feet.

“Are you happy now?” Minseok hisses. “Is this what you wanted? Proof that I’m a fucking Unnatural, just like you?”

Jongdae stares at him. “You think this is something we want?” 

“Isn’t it?” Minseok’s voice says, although it barely sounds like him anymore. There must be a third person standing with them, even though Minseok’s mouth is the one moving. “Now I’m no better than either of you.”

Jongdae makes a harsh, grating sound. “See, I thought you’d changed. But you still think having powers makes you a lesser person. It really makes me wonder how you felt about me and Baekhyun all this while.”

 _It’s not like that,_  Minseok means to say, but instead the stranger with Minseok’s voice ploughs ahead, unfazed.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t make you feel special, when you thought I was normal. It was such a lovely story, wasn’t it? A rich SNU boy, falling for Unnaturals like you?” Minseok’s so horrified at himself. They’ve never really addressed what’s been going on between the three of them, and hearing it out loud for the first time like this is sickening.  _Stop talking,_  Minseok begs, _please stop talking_.

“Wow.” Jongdae says, shaking his head. “You’re being a real asshole today, hyung. I’m out of here.”

He steps back, and his eyes flicker down to the grass, the little shards of ice gathered on the earth. Jongdae digs into his pocket and tosses something at Minseok. It’s a small light-blue pouch the weight of a few marbles, but it’s stitched shut so Minseok can’t see what’s actually in it.

“Keep that with you.” Jongdae says. “It’ll dull the brunt of your powers for a couple of hours. I’d like it back someday, if you ever feel charitable enough to come look for an _Unnatural like me_.” 

Turning his back on Minseok, he steps out through the overgrown path and disappears from sight. Minseok flops against the picnic table, taking a strangled breath and holding the pouch up to his face. It’s a little warm to the touch, but Minseok doesn’t know if it’s some strange magic at work or the resulting warmth of Jongdae’s body.

Minseok clutches it close to his chest, staring up at the canopy of trees. True to Jongdae’s words, by the time Minseok gathers himself to go to class, the icy feeling is completely gone.

For the first time all week, Minseok’s notes remain dry throughout the lecture, but no matter how hard he clings to the pouch, the chilling grip over his heart never eases.

- 

From Baekhyun:  _Hyung, why?_

-

The days go by in silence. Junmyeon is too busy with his classes to join Minseok for lunch, and Jongdae and Baekhyun’s messages have ceased altogether. So it’s a shock when at the tail end of lunch on Friday, someone pulls out the chair across from him and a tray is set down onto the table. 

“Hello.” Yixing says, as he takes a seat.

“Hi.” Minseok says, startled. The students around them are cleaning up their dishes, preparing to leave, and Yixing’s bowl of jjangppong is still steaming hot. “Sorry, I’m about to go to class, Yixing.”

“Don’t be silly.” Yixing says. “I had to try four different cafeterias before I found you. I need to talk to you.”

Confused, Minseok looks up from his food.  “Oh. Okay. What is it?" 

“How’s your food?” Yixing says.

Minseok barely remembers what he’s eating, despite having stared at it all through lunch. He looks back down. It’s fried rice, and not particularly exciting, if Minseok’s memory is anything to go by.

“Good.” He says to Yixing. “How’s yours?”

“Wonderful.” Yixing says, and takes a mouthful of noodles. Minseok wonders what exactly Yixing is getting at. 

“Do you know what my ability is?” Yixing asks.

Minseok’s entire body jerks. He scans Yixing’s expression, trying to see if it’s a trick question or a trap, but Yixing’s face remains serene.

“Medicine.” He guesses. “You’re a medical student.”

“That’s a pretty broad generalization.” Yixing says. “Yes, healing is one of my main talents.  It's not the one I'd like to talk to you about, however.  Do you know about secondary abilities?"

Minseok's barely even familiar with his first.  Yixing watches his expression for a moment and smiles reassuringly.

"Over the years, I've worked on variations of my healing ability, and I've managed a good grasp on several other types of powers.  I don’t tell many people this, but one of them is the ability to identify genetic structure. More specifically, one type of gene in particular.”

Minseok suddenly feels ill. He drops his spoon into his plate, pushing back from the table. Yixing continues talking at his snail’s pace, as if knowing Minseok won’t actually leave.

He’s right. 

“For example, I know that there are approximately fifty-four unreported supernaturals at SNU this year.” Yixing says. “Perhaps of all fifty-four of them, only a handful have ever approached me. But I keep an eye out. And sometimes, when I see that they may desire it, I make an offer.”

“What offer?” Minseok asks.

“You see,” Yixing says, “In addition to the identifying these genes, I also possess the ability to alter, or remove them.”

Minseok nearly overturns his iced tea when he pushes back this time, only to find that the cup is frozen to the table. When he quickly scans the vicinity to see if anyone noticed, he finds that all the tables around them are empty. Lunch is over, he realizes. They’re both late for class.

“Calm down, Minseok-ssi.” Yixing says, reaching out to warm it with his hands. Once it’s thawed enough to remove, he passes the cup to Minseok. “Drink. Breathe slowly.”

Minseok takes a large swallow, hands shaking around the cup. He puts it down before he can freeze the entire thing. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Minseok says in a low voice. “Are you insane? You can’t go around telling everyone you have the ability to erase powers. If the wrong person found out, you could be forced to— to go around and—”

Minseok makes an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat. He knows there’s an underground market for disabling medication, and a few years back a group of KAIST researchers claimed to have found the cure for super abilities. But none of it ever proved fruitful.

Having Yixing right before him, claiming to be able to do it— it’s an astounding thought. Every supernatural could be rid of their powers. 

“I would relinquish my own ability before it came to that.” Yixing answers calmly. “I’ve been very careful about who I speak to, you need not worry about it.” 

“The real question is if you would be interested in my offer.” Yixing says. “The process is quick, and painless. You just have to ask.”

 _Yes._  Minseok thinks, opening his mouth.  _Yes._

No sound comes out.

Yixing rests his chopsticks over his bowl and stands. “There’s time to think about it, of course. Sometimes it takes months before people make up their minds. Years, even. There’s no expiration date, Minseok-ssi.”

Lifting his finished tray of food into his hands, Yixing nods a polite goodbye towards Minseok. He’s a few feet away before Minseok finds his voice again, no more than a hoarse croak.

“Yixing? How many people in the past have said yes?”

Yixing studies Minseok carefully.

“Not as many as you might expect.” he says.  He leaves his answer for Minseok to ponder, disappearing down the staircase.

Minseok doesn’t know how long he sits there after Yixing walks away. Gone are the last few stragglers, and Minseok sits at the sole occupied table, fingers clenched over the artificial marble edge. It’s only when the midday workers start making their way into the cafeteria for their shifts does he start out of his trance. 

The dorms are quiet for the hour when Minseok returns to the building. He drags himself towards his room, fingers shaking as he locks the door behind him. His keys drop onto the wooden floor, missing the dresser, and Minseok doesn’t bother to pick them up.

He falls into bed, seeking the blissful warmth of his blankets, and prays he’ll dream of answers.

- 

Minseok wakes up several hours later to the vibrating of his alarm. Blearily, he fumbles for his phone in the darkness, finding it somewhere above his head beneath a discarded pillow, and turning it off. His head is throbbing as he reaches into his jacket pocket for Jongdae’s pouch, but even when he clenches it tight between both hands, its effects have long since faded.

The familiarity of the convenience store grounds Minseok, the clanking of the electrical appliances and the ecstatic ice machine keeping him lucid enough to settle down at the counter. He hasn’t brought his work with him tonight, doesn’t even know where his books are, but it’s all he can do to sit and stare into space.

 _Deep breaths,_  Minseok reminds himself in _Laoshi_ Huang’s voice.  _You are stronger than your power. Deep breaths._

Minseok keeps repeating the mantra in his head, unmoving until the door suddenly pushes open. He startles back into awareness, and lurches to his feet when he sees Baekhyun standing just inside the store, door swinging shut behind him.

“Don’t.” Minseok says. “You shouldn’t be here.”

But Baekhyun isn’t looking at him. He’s got both hands in his pockets, looking up at the glass windows of the store. When Minseok tears his gaze away from Baekhyun, he sees what the other is looking at: the glass completely fogged up, trails of condensation sliding down the surface.

“Go away.” Minseok repeats, sharper this time, and Baekhyun finally swivels his head around to look at Minseok. The coldness in his gaze sends a new wave of chills up Minseok’s spine.

“Don’t tell me to go away.” Baekhyun hisses, pushing his way behind the counter, coming towards Minseok like a starving predator.  Minseok already feels shredded. “I’m furious with you. You don’t get to talk to Jongdae like that. Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince him that you were worth it?”

“How many times must I tell you to leave me alone?” Minseok cries. “Didn’t Jongdae pass on the message? I’m a wreck! If you’re hoping for a white knight, maybe try the store next door.”

“Why are you saying all these things? I almost didn’t believe it when Jongdae told me.”  Baekhyun asks, shaking his head.  "If you need help—" 

Minseok laughs in his face.  It's wild and frightened and Minseok feels a little bit delirious from it.

"How do _you_ think you can help me?  You can barely help yourself."  Minseok says.

The expression on Baekhyun's face shifts so abruptly from anger into a stunned look.  He's quiet for a long, dreadful moment, and then he takes a step back.

“I know you’re better than this."  Baekhyun whispers.  "I just don’t know why you’re not showing it.”

Minseok covers his face with a shaking hand.  “Go away, Baekhyun.  Please.  Just go."

Baekhyun doesn’t respond, watching as Minseok presses his palms over the countertop, willing himself to calm down. His hands are a grotesque, icy texture, veins running blue all the way up to his fingertips. 

“You’re sick.” Baekhyun says somberly. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

Minseok jerks his head up to meet Baekhyun’s eyes, livid. “You—" 

“No,” Baekhyun cuts in swiftly, “You’re actually  _ill_. This shouldn’t be happening, not even with untrained supernaturals.”

“I’m trained.” Minseok says through gritted teeth. His breath clouds before him when he speaks, the store is  _so, so cold_. “I’ve been trained, it’s never been like this before.”

“When was the last time you let your powers out?”  Baekhyun asks.  The warmth of Baekhyun’s palm is scorching hot when he presses it to Minseok’s face, finally closing the distance between them.

“I don’t. It usually goes away.” Minseok gasps, his head spinning. He thinks he’s grabbed hold of Baekhyun, but Baekhyun skids around the counter again, and the feeling under his fingertips dissolves into nothing.

“Oh my god.” Baekhyun says, voice returning to Minseok’s side, and Minseok makes out the sight of Baekhyun untwisting the cap on a bottle of juice. The mouth of the bottle is pressed insistently to Minseok’s and he takes a shaky sip, spilling half of it down the front of his jacket.

Minseok sinks beneath the counter, trying to steady his breathing the way he’d learned all those years ago, but it doesn’t work. Energy shrieks under Minseok’s skin, tearing desperately out from their prison. 

“No.” Baekhyun whispers, cheeks flushed red from the cold. He bites down on his lower lip, hands shaking as he pulls away from Minseok. There are snowflakes falling.

Snowflakes.

Fuck, Minseok hates himself. He stumbles around the counter, pushing past Baekhyun and going straight for the door.

“I’m out of here.” Minseok says, shaking his head blindly. “I’m closing up, I can’t stay here— I need to—”

“Hyung, you can’t go out like this.” Baekhyun says, voice sounding petrified even through the haze of Minseok’s brain, but Minseok’s beyond listening. He grabs the door handle, bitingly cold, yanks it open and jerks to an abrupt halt.

There’s someone standing on the steps.

“Hey, Minseok. We were stopping by to get some drinks.” Mr. Song says, and Minseok’s legs nearly give out beneath him.

Oh God. Minseok’s so frightened he can’t think. This is a dream, it has to be. He can’t move, he’s so horrified.

Mr. Song steps around Minseok into the store, and all the air leaves Minseok so abruptly he goes lightheaded. There’s someone else at the entrance now, a friend, perhaps, and he steps past Minseok to join Minseok’s boss.

Minseok doesn’t turn to watch. Instead, he’s tempted to run. He’s standing right by the door, the warm outside air scalding against his skin. He could run, and start all over again, like he had eleven years ago. Minseok closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He could run.

“It’s cold as hell in here, isn’t it?” Mr. Song says. “Minseok, is the air-conditioning working up again?”

_What?_

Minseok whirls around. Mr. Song is making his way towards the back of the store, his shoes crunching against shards of ice. Snowflakes continue to fall gently, materializing out of thin air. Some of them gather in his slicked-back hair.

Mr. Song’s companion snorts, trudging towards the alcohol section. “At least your air-conditioning’s working, not like that horrendous restaurant we had dinner at.”

“Minseok,” Mr. Song calls from the back, “how long has the store been like this? You should have messaged me.”

“Um.” Minseok says. There’s ice all over the store, frozen chips scattered across the floor, the shelves, the counter. Baekhyun’s sunk into a chair at one of his regular tables, fingers clasped together tightly, head bowed. He looks like he’s praying— and clarity slams into Minseok, overwhelming, when he realizes exactly what it is Baekhyun’s doing.

“J-just today.” Minseok calls back, urging his feet to move back into the store. He needs to keep going, needs to pretend that his entire world isn’t hanging by a thread before him. Minseok thinks of Jongdae, the way he eased into conversation with Yixing, even when every bone in his body was terrified.

Mr. Song’s companion returns to the front of the store, holding a six-pack of Hite in one hand and a bottle of baekseju in the other. He shivers, stomping his feet to keep warm. “How the hell can you stay in here, kid?”

Minseok shakes his head mutely, casting a look over his shoulder at Mr. Song, who is forcefully prodding at the air-conditioning controls.

Gathering his courage, Minseok raises his voice to speak. “I tried that already. I think it’s broken.”

Letting out a defeated huff, Mr. Song slides the panel shut again. He wanders around the shop for several long minutes, scowling at the half-frozen coffees and running his finger over the icy glass of the refrigerator. He looks concerned, but not overly upset, and Minseok prays with every fiber of his being that whatever Baekhyun’s doing is enough to hold through the inspection.

Eventually, Mr. Song joins his friend by the counter, gesturing for Minseok to ring up their drinks. “Go ahead and call it a night before you freeze in here. Lock up the place, you know how to do that, right? I’ll get someone to come in to fix it tomorrow.”

A warm hand claps onto Minseok’s shoulder, and Minseok swallows back a gasp, praying he won’t turn his boss into an ice sculpture.

“Come on.” Mr. Song says to his friend, and they head out the doors, alcohol in tow. The glass doors are completely frosted, a thin layer of cracked ice spread between the panes. Minseok’s been holding his breath for so long he feels like he’ll never stop.

The door is pushed open, heat rushing into the store.

“Goodnight, Minseok.” 

Minseok lifts his hand in a feeble wave, but they’re already gone. For several long moments, Minseok doesn’t move. The door is shut again. They’re gone.

“Oh god.” Minseok says, burying his face in his hands. He’s shaking all over.

There’s the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

“Baekhyun.” Minseok breathes, looking up. Baekhyun’s pushed back from the table, standing.

He skids across the room towards Baekhyun, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “Thank you,” Minseok chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A firm hand grips just as tightly around Minseok’s back, and Minseok buries his face into the side of Baekhyun’s neck. Fingers curl into his hair, stroking gently. Minseok swallows down a sob. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs again, and Baekhyun shushes him. Minseok blinks back tears, burying his face back against Baekhyun’s neck. He feels numb, staring blankly at the blinking lights on the coffee machine, his tears soaking into Baekhyun’s shirt. Some part of Minseok balks at this, mortified by the breakdown, saying  _you don’t deserve this, not after everything you’ve done_ , but Baekhyun’s touch is soft, forgiving. So Minseok clings on, and cries.

Baekhyun manages to coax Minseok into a chair, stroking repeatedly down Minseok’s back, murmuring quietly. Minseok’s ear is pressed against Baekhyun’s chest, the vibrations of Baekhyun’s voice soothing through him. He doesn’t think he could bear to move away even if anyone walked in, but evidently there’s been enough disaster for one day, and the door remains closed.

Baekhyun’s shivering, Minseok realizes, when he himself stops shaking long enough to take stock of what just happened. Pushing back, he swipes the remaining dampness from his eyes so he can properly look at Baekhyun. The younger is pale, fingers clammy under Minseok’s grip. His skin is freezing to the touch, now that Minseok has warmed down.

“I’m going to close up, then I’m taking you home.” Minseok tells him. “Will you be alright waiting for me?”

“I’m still angry at you.” Baekhyun murmurs, even though he makes no move to let go of Minseok. Minseok’s heart plummets.

“I’m sorry.” Minseok fumbles, and Baekhyun looks at him, tired. Miniature crystalline droplets are clinging to his eyelashes. Minseok yanks off his jacket, bundling it around Baekhyun and zipping it up. Neither of them bother to get Baekhyun’s arms through the sleeves, so they’re just there, pinned to his sides. “You can’t go home like this, Baekhyun. I’ll call Jongdae.”

“Don’t call Jongdae.” Baekhyun says. “I came here because I want  _you_.”

Minseok brushes a thumb under Baekhyun’s cheek, taking in an uneven breath. “Okay.” He says, voice thick. “I’m here. Wait for me, okay? I’ll drive you home.”

Baekhyun nods, glancing out the window towards the street briefly. He’s stopped shivering, but he still looks battered and worn.

“Want to wait outside?” Minseok offers, and Baekhyun shakes his head. 

Minseok’s heart swells. “I’ll be back. Just stay here.” He says, stepping back slowly, reluctant to leave Baekhyun even for a moment. His entire body groans in protest when he straightens, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck.

Pushing aside the heaviness in his limbs, Minseok locks the front door and goes around the counter to open the cash register, hurriedly counting out the bills before taking everything to the safe in the backroom. He barely pays any attention even as he empties the coffee machine and washes it out, clearing the food that won’t keep until the morning from the display shelf.

“Baekhyunnie,” he calls, as he wipes the shelf down, “Want leftover dosirak?”

Baekhyun perks up a little, lips quirking into a tiny smile, so Minseok bags the things that he’d have thrown out at the end of his shift and drops the bag beside Baekhyun on the table.

He’s long-since stopped freezing the store up, and most of the snow has started melting into disgusting puddles of sludge. Briefly, he wonders if there’s a superpower that cleans efficiently, and decides to ask Baekhyun or Jongdae when he gets the chance.

He lifts Baekhyun onto the cashier counter when he has to stack the chairs up, and by the time he’s done mopping through the store Baekhyun’s dozing, using the cash register as a pillow in what has to be an extremely uncomfortable position.

Minseok shakes Baekhyun awake, guiding his head away from the cash register. “Come on, I’m done." 

“Hmm? What?” Baekhyun mumbles, but slides off the counter, grabbing the bag of food. With his free hand he reaches out to thread his fingers around Minseok’s, and doesn’t let go even as Minseok attempts to lock up the store with one hand. The rest of the world melts away as they walk towards Minseok’s car, Baekhyun swaying with each step on the empty streets, half-sleeping, half-dancing. He’s still wearing Minseok’s jacket, and Minseok has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“I’m really sorry, Baekhyun.” Minseok says, catching Baekhyun’s eye in the rearview mirror as he turns on the ignition. The engine roars to life, jarring in the otherwise silent night. Baekhyun scrutinizes him lazily with one eye open, leaning back against the closed door.

“It’s okay. You’ll make it up to us.” Baekhyun says, turning his head to look out at the streets.

The smile, Minseok catches in the reflection of the glass.

-

The door of the apartment is triple-locked, and Minseok takes in their surroundings as Baekhyun unlocks each one. There’s mold growing on the walls in patches up and down the dilapidated corridor, and the grill of the apartment across from Baekhyun’s is crusted brown. It’s the kind of place Minseok’s always known that many supernaturals ended up in, but he’d never actually pictured Jongdae and Baekhyun living.

The door finally swings open, and Baekhyun takes Minseok’s hand again, pulling him through the doorway. Minseok’s barely made it past the entrance when he stops.

Standing in the kitchen barefoot and holding a mug, is who must be the elusive Kyungsoo. His eyebrows lift when he sees Minseok, but he says nothing and continues to sip from his mug, and somehow that’s more terrifying. 

Minseok bows his head in greeting, tripping over his own feet when Baekhyun pulls him forward. The concrete floor is cold beneath Minseok’s socked soles, but there’s a generous scattering of mismatched carpets and rugs strewn across the floor. The flashy picnic blanket is hanging off the back of the loveseat, and looks perfectly at home in the chaos. 

“Sorry.” Baekhyun says, as they cross over the threshold. “I usually try to make it look better.”

“Um.” Minseok says, staring at a painting of a pink rooster with large, round eyes that seem to look into his soul. “Is that possible?”

Baekhyun sighs, tugging Minseok away from the cockeyed rooster. “You realize who you’re talking to, right?”

There’s a sharp pang in Minseok’s heart as the words sink in. He plants his feet firmly on the ground, refusing to budge until Baekhyun turns to look at him.

“You shouldn’t have to pretend your apartment is something it isn’t.” Minseok says. “It’s your house, why is it anyone else’s business what it looks like?”

“You’re precious.” Baekhyun murmurs, leaning into Minseok briefly before letting go of Minseok’s hand, heading to the bedroom alone. The emptiness in Minseok’s grip is enough incentive for him to follow after Baekhyun. He catches a glimpse of Kyungsoo still watching them from the kitchen, eyes round and assessing.

“Close the door.” Baekhyun says, as they step into the bedroom. He strips off his clothes as he moves, jacket on the chair, shirt over the heater. Jeans on the desk. Minseok looks down at his feet. The last article of clothing lands somewhere in the periphery of Minseok’s vision, and Minseok determinedly does not glance at it.

“I should go.” he says, as Baekhyun pads around the bedroom. The door is still ajar, but he seems to have no qualms about his nudity. 

“Stay.” Baekhyun says. “You can borrow some of my clothes. Or Jongdae’s.”

“Baekhyun—”

Baekhyun comes to a stop in front of Minseok. He reaches across Minseok to pull the door shut, and Minseok finds himself caged between the closed door and Baekhyun’s body. Baekhyun’s dressed again, at least partially, in a plain T-shirt and boxers. Electricity crackles in his fingertips as he touches Minseok’s arm, and Minseok wonders if he is the one with lightning powers after all.

“Stay with me.” Baekhyun says. “Jongdae won’t be back until late.”

He flits away for a moment, and returns, pressing a change of clothes into Minseok’s arms. The room is too small, the bed too tiny. Minseok wants to stay so badly.

“Please?” Baekhyun requests, and it’s impossible to resist. Baekhyun tugs him towards the bed and Minseok goes, climbing in beside him just to feel what it’s like, Baekhyun’s warm body pressed close against his. Baekhyun slides under the covers, pulling Minseok’s arm around him and makes a satisfied noise.

“I can’t stay, Baekhyun.” Minseok says, collecting his scattered thoughts. “Jongdae will be back later. At least let me sleep on the couch." 

“No,” Baekhyun mumbles, grip on Minseok’s hand tightening. “I’m cold. You made me cold, now you have to take responsibility and cuddle me.”

It’s a low blow. Minseok knows for a fact that Baekhyun isn’t cold anymore, what with traipsing around the bedroom half-naked for as long as he had, but the memory of Baekhyun’s frozen skin still makes Minseok’s stomach twist painfully. He rolls onto his side so that Baekhyun isn’t constantly trying to wrench his arm out of its socket, wrapping his arm around Baekhyun’s back.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Minseok promises.

“I won’t fall asleep then.” Baekhyun says, but he’s already drifting. “I’ll stay awake forever, so you can’t go anywhere.”

“Forever?” Minseok murmurs lightly. “We’ll have to give Jongdae back his bed sometime.”

“It’s ‘kay.” Baekhyun says. “There’s space.”

There’s barely enough space for two people. Minseok shifts, wondering what time Jongdae will be back, and what he’d think about finding Minseok asleep in his bed. “I haven’t spoken to Jongdae.” Minseok says suddenly, sitting up.  He can still taste the last conversation they had at the back of his throat, all the awful things he said and hasn't taken back.

Baekhyun groans and shuffles underneath Minseok’s arm, pulling the blankets over his head. “Sleep, hyung.”

“ _You_  sleep.” Minseok retorts. He climbs out of bed, and Baekhyun makes a noise like a cat being steamrolled.

Someone thumps on the wall aggressively from the room next door. 

“Call Jongdae.” Baekhyun says, winding himself up in the blankets. “If you’re so worried. Hyung, it’s one in the morning and you’re not going home alone after everything that’s happened. Don’t worry about Jongdae.”

Minseok pauses beside the bed to look down at Baekhyun, mildly impressed. It’s the longest coherent sentence Baekhyun’s said all night. Seconds later, however, he promptly ruins the streak by making a muffled noise into his pillow that sounds like ‘gfon sheep.’

“What?” Minseok says.

Baekhyun lets out a pained sound and lifts his head from the pillow. “Can you call Jongdae and then come back here? My phone’s in... somewhere.”

“Where’s my phone?” Minseok asks, and remembers that he’d left it in his car.

Minseok eventually finds Baekhyun’s phone in the back pocket of the jeans he’d been wearing, draped across his desk. After much probing, Baekhyun gives him the wrong date for Chanyeol’s birthday several times before the passcode goes through. Jongdae’s name is second from the top on the call list, and Minseok hesitates, finger hovering mid-air for several seconds before touching the screen delicately.

He hears Baekhyun mumbling to himself as the phone rings. “Are you always so difficult at night? We’ll have to talk about this, I can’t sleep with someone climbing in and out of bed all the time, asking me about birthdays and stingrays.” 

Minseok glances over at the bed. “No one’s said anything about stingrays.” he tells Baekhyun, but the other has buried himself completely beneath the blankets, making strange, warbling noises. Minseok rolls his eyes, and the phone clicks.

“Baekhyunnie?” Jongdae’s voice crackles cheerfully over the speakers.

“No, uh… it’s Minseok.” Minseok says, and he hears Jongdae’s smile fade even over the line.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks, without a hello first. Minseok tries to ignore the pang of hurt that flickers through him. He supposes he deserves it.

“He’s fine, he’s here.” Minseok says. “I drove him home and he, um, he’s in bed talking about sleep and sheep and stingray.”

“Yeah?” Jongdae says. Minseok can’t tell what he’s thinking. “He’s been talking a lot about aquatic animals in his sleep recently.”

It’s such a silly thing, but Minseok feels a thrilling warmth stirring in his chest for knowing this. He’s also learning what Jongdae sounds like at one in the morning, voice low and breathtakingly intimate.

“Why are you calling, hyung? The last time you spoke to me, you made it quite clear you wanted nothing to do with us. So you can imagine my surprise hearing from you in the middle of the night, from my bedroom.” Jongdae murmurs. He still doesn’t sound angry, nor any other emotion that Minseok can put a handle to. Minseok wishes he could see Jongdae’s face.

Minseok leans against the desk, staring at the tattered poster of some obscure indie band taped to the wall. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I don’t know why I said the things I did. I was just so lost, and you both were the easiest to blame, the closest people I could lash out on. It was so stupid.”

“It’s been a long time since we let someone new get so close to us, which was why it hurt as much as it did.” Jongdae says. “Baekhyun cried for  _days_. He’s shattered every single lightbulb in our bedroom." 

“I’m sorry—”

“Do you remember when we first met?” Jongdae asks. “I wasn’t the friendliest person. You won’t believe the number of times we’ve had people turn on us, it made it so hard to trust you, even when Baekhyun insisted you were different.”

Jongdae clears his throat quietly, and Minseok hears him cup his hand over the phone so he can talk to someone on his end, voice muffled. Minseok presses a palm to his temple, steadying himself.

 _Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince him that you were worth it?_  Baekhyun’s voice echoes in Minseok’s head.

“I’m not saying this for your apology.” Jongdae says, returning to the call. “I don’t think you meant to hurt us, not really. But I want you to think about it. Because the things you said— if you even remotely feel that any of them were true, I’d rather you walk out right now. I ask, that you do.” 

Baekhyun shifts beneath the blankets, completely hidden from view. Minseok’s head is so jumbled the poster is swimming before him. Cautiously, he admits, “I’ve spent eleven years of my life teaching myself that having abilities was wrong, that I had to stamp it out of me. I didn’t realize there was another way. I don’t think I was ever open to the idea, that there might be." 

Minseok remembers Yixing’s offer, and his eyes burn beneath closed lids. “I’m trying.” He says. “I know it doesn’t solve anything, but you’re both really important to me.”

“You’re important to us too.” Jongdae says. “I don’t know, hyung. I’ve never been really good at letting people close, but I’ve never wanted to this badly, either.”

“We’ll work on it.” Minseok promises, hope suffusing through him. It isn’t a lot, but it’s enough for now. “I'll try my best, Jongdae, I swear I will.”

“We’ll be alright then, hyung.” Jongdae says.

Jongdae lets out a breath on the other end of the line. He sounds tired. Minseok wonders why he’s still out at this hour, when he’s coming back. “Are you working?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Jongdae says.

“Don’t work too hard.” Minseok says, and Jongdae lets out a low hum. “Wake me up when you get back, I can sleep on the couch.” 

“Don’t worry about me.” Jongdae says. “I’ll be fine. Keep Baekhyunnie warm for me. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” Minseok says, and closes his eyes again. 

Minseok puts Baekhyun’s phone back on the desk when the call ends. It’s hot beneath his palm and Minseok sinks against the desk, weight slipping off his shoulders, melting into gratitude. It’s a strange feeling, combined with the exhaustion clamouring to claim him now that the night has drawn to a close. 

Eyes only half-open at this point, Minseok changes quickly into the clothes Baekhyun had given him. The shirt he throws on is soft, in the well-worn kind of way, and Minseok drapes his own clothing over the arm of the chair before staggering towards the bed.

Baekhyun’s hair is peeking out from beneath the blanket. Minseok rolls him over, untwisting the blanket so he can climb beneath it to join Baekhyun. The mattress springs creak beneath his weight, and Baekhyun curls towards him once he’s lying down. 

“Your mattress is horribly squeaky.” Minseok comments. 

“You bought us this mattress.” Baekhyun says sleepily. He throws an arm over Minseok— he’s warmer than Minseok is. “Hyung, please stop talking. I’m so tired.” 

“I’ll buy you another one.” Minseok promises. He doesn’t get to say anything else, because he’s already asleep.

-

Because Kim Jongdae is a filthy liar and a terrible self-sacrificing human being, Minseok wakes up the next morning still in bed with Baekhyun curled up beside him. Baekhyun stirs when Minseok sits up, protesting drowsily at the loss, but drifts off into sleep again when Minseok strokes his hair.

Quietly, Minseok slips into the bathroom to clean up, dousing his face in cold water and staring at his reflection. His skin has a faint blue tint to it, contrasting sharply with the red flush of his cheeks and painted tip of his nose. Minseok breathes in, shaking water droplets out of his hair and turning away.

Out in the living room, Jongdae’s leaning against Kyungsoo on the couch, murmuring to one another in low tones. They fall silent when Minseok appears, and Jongdae gives him a tired smile, gesturing for Minseok to join them.

“Sleep well?” Jongdae asks, when Minseok takes a seat on the edge of the couch. Minseok takes stock of himself. His body still aches from head to toe, but any agony of the previous week has completely faded now, and the room had been blissfully devoid of frost when he’d awoken. He still feels a little out-of-sorts, but waking up in an unfamiliar room could do that to a person. 

The weight on the couch shifts, Kyungsoo’s fingers wrap around Jongdae’s shoulder briefly before he leaves. 

“Yeah, I slept fine.” Minseok answers belatedly, taking in Jongdae’s sleep-tousled hair and crumpled white t-shirt. Accusingly but softly, he adds, “You didn’t wake me up.”

Jongdae tugs Minseok towards him, turning so that their knees are touching. At this angle, his hair looks even more ridiculous. Minseok can’t help but reach out to comb it down with his fingers.

“I couldn’t.” Jongdae says. “You both looked so sweet together." 

Kyungsoo returns with a mug that he sets down in front of Minseok. He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head towards the mug, indicating for Minseok to drink. This time when he leaves, Minseok watches him go into his room and shut the door behind him.

Bringing the mug of dark liquid towards his lips, Minseok pauses and stares down at it. It doesn’t smell like coffee, more like a mixture of tea and medicine and something vaguely foul.

“Should I be drinking this?” He asks doubtfully.

Jongdae laughs, pushing it to Minseok’s lips. “It’s an old recipe from Kyungsoo’s mother. It’ll help to stabilize your powers again after overextending them. Drink, you’ll need it after everything that happened yesterday.”

“Baekhyun texted me.” Jongdae explains, before Minseok can put his question into words. “He also sent me a very adorable photo of you trying to shovel snow with a broom.”

Minseok starts to defend himself and accidentally swallows a mouthful of the drink when Jongdae tips it towards him again. It tastes like a mix of kerosene and rotting carcass, and Minseok downs the rest of the cup, knowing he’ll never be able to once he’s stopped. 

“I’m so impressed right now.” Jongdae says, taking the heinous cup from his hand and replacing it with one from the table. 

“Lemon tea.” Jongdae says. “It’s mine, but you’ve earned it.”

Minseok takes a large gulp, but it does little to ease the foul taste in his mouth. Jongdae laughs generously at him, patting his thigh.

“You’ll get used to it.” He says. He drops back against the couch, leaning his head against Minseok’s shoulder. Minseok had expected Jongdae to be distant considering how he’d been treated before, taking his time to warm up to Minseok again, but Jongdae’s touch is tender, affectionate.

He wants it to work just as badly as Minseok does, Minseok realizes. He rests his head against Jongdae’s tilted one, his bare knees pressed almost completely over Jongdae’s thigh.

For a moment, neither of them do anything but breathe, taking in the quiet company. Minseok makes promises anew in his head, interrupted only when the bedroom door creaks open.

“You both left me.” Baekhyun says sorrowfully, leaning against the doorframe as he stares down at them. “I wanted to wake up in bed with both of you, and instead I wake up with neither.”

“Come here, you spoiled creature.” Jongdae says, uncrossing his legs and holding his arms open to Baekhyun like one would offer to pick up a child. 

“I feel like death.” Baekhyun complains, but he drags himself into the living room. He folds into Jongdae’s open arms, burying his face against Jongdae’s neck in a silent good morning, and then pushes Jongdae aside so he can curl up against Minseok’s chest.

“My head hurts.” Baekhyun mumbles, blinking up at Minseok. “Kiss it better.”

Minseok obligingly presses a kiss to the top of Baekhyun’s head.

“Actually, everything hurts.” Baekhyun amends.

“Poor baby.” Jongde coos, reaching beneath Baekhyun’s shirt to pinch him. Baekhyun glowers at Jongdae and tucks himself closer to Minseok, who instinctively tightens his hold around him. Jongdae laughs and gets to his feet, heading to the kitchen. 

“Let’s go back to bed.” Baekhyun says into Minseok’s shoulder. Even knowing Baekhyun’s probably mostly exaggerating, Minseok still reads the genuine exhaustion in the line of Baekhyun’s slumped frame.

“I’m sorry.” Minseok says, troubled, taking Baekhyun’s face in between both palms. “If I hadn’t lost control last night you wouldn’t be like this. Is there anything I can do?”

Baekhyun cracks an eye open to look at him before closing it again. “Maybe buy me barbeque. And ice cream. And honey bread.” Baekhyun says.

“If you ate all that first thing in the morning, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually dying.” Jongdae says dryly. The couch dips as he sits down again, and he reaches out to slide a hand through Baekhyun’s hair, touch feather-light. He’s holding a yellow mug in the other hand, a strange cartoon character printed on the front.

“Kyungsoo made tea.” Jongdae says. Baekhyun gives a long-suffering sigh, and Minseok’s ready for him to protest, but instead Baekhyun just takes the mug and drinks the entire thing, drooping back into Minseok’s arms afterwards.

Minseok looks down at Baekhyun, astonished, but he seems to have gone back to sleep.

“Told you that you’ll get used to it.” Jongdae says.

When Kyungsoo emerges from his room an hour later, Chanyeol is leaning on the wall beside his door, grinning from ear to ear as he munches on a slice of toast.

“What are you so happy about?” Kyungsoo asks, and Chanyeol nods his head towards the living room.

Spread out across the couch are Jongdae, Baekhyun and Minseok, fast asleep in the narrow space. It doesn’t look the least bit comfortable, Jongdae’s bony frame digging into one side of the couch, Baekhyun flattened beneath him. The newcomer, Minseok, has one hand curled over Jongdae’s shoulder, the other loosely holding onto Baekhyun’s wrist. If any of them moved even the slightest, Kyungsoo’s sure they would collectively topple off the couch.

“They made up.” Chanyeol says joyfully. “They’re so cute.”

“Ew.” Kyungsoo mumbles, and takes a photo.

-

 

_One year later_

 

The last day of the semester falls on a cloudless blue day, rays of sunshine spilling onto the sidewalk, birds chirping overhead as Minseok hurries through campus. Minseok had finished his thesis last weekend, sitting on the floor with his knees curled to his chest as he hit the submit button and watched the crawling of the loading sign.

And then it was done.

He clutches his notes close as he makes his way to the law building, heartbeat picking up as he walks down the row of trees just outside the front entrance. Students swarm around him in various stages of disorganization, but Minseok’s too preoccupied with his own thoughts to pay them any attention.

Minseok nearly leaps out of his skin when a hand clasps over his back.

“Sorry!” Yixing says, grinning as he withdraws his hand. “I saw you from across the street and I wanted to come over to congratulate you. Today’s your last day of class, isn’t it?”

“Don’t congratulate me yet.” Minseok says grimly. “I still need to talk to Professor Lee one last time to see if I’ve passed.”

Yixing rolls his eyes. “Don’t be silly, of course you’ve passed. You’ve talked it through with her a billion times. If she didn’t like it, you’d have been arrested by now.” 

Minseok shoves Yixing in the chest. “Please don’t joke about this kind of thing.”

Yixing just beams at him and pats Minseok on the back. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Let’s catch up one of these days, I’ll buy dinner.”

“I’m going out with Junmyeon next week,” Minseok says, “I’ll send you the details once we’ve finalized them.” 

“Sure.” Yixing says merrily. “Alright, I’ve a test in fifteen minutes, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later?” 

“Good luck!” Minseok calls after his retreating back.

“Congratulations!” Yixing returns, waving.

Pulling his notes closer to his chest, Minseok pushes the doors of the law building open. He’s spent six years here, and it’s been a rollercoaster of a time indeed. There are some things he’d wishes he’d done differently, no doubt, but as he walks through the corridor and makes his way to the professors’ offices, he’s unbelievably proud of himself for having made it this far. 

Professor Lee is already waiting for him when he finally knocks on the door to her office. His thesis, fully printed and bound, is sitting on her desk.

She gestures for him to take a seat and he does, hands clenched over his knees as he waits for her to speak.

“You know, you’ve been one of the most surprising students in my entire career here, Minseok. You’d always been a good student, textbook perfect. We spent so long talking about courts, buyouts and acquisitions for this thesis, and then one day, I get the surprise of my life when you tell me you want to change topics.” Professor Lee says.

“I’m sorry about that.” Minseok says.

Professor Lee frowns at him. “Are you really?” She asks, fingers tapping against a sheet of paper on the desk. Minseok tries to gauge if she’s waiting for a particular answer, but her face remains unreadable.

“No.” Minseok confesses. “I’m sorry I caused the trouble, but I’m not sorry I changed it. I like this one a lot better than any of the others. I think it’s… something I’m passionate about.”

She looks over at him then, studying him carefully before saying, “I think so too. Frankly, I was surprised, because of how thorough it was.  I know research about supernaturals isn’t easy to get a hold of, and even once you do, it takes a lot of dedication to work through the hurdles that have intentionally been thrown up in the way. The progress you made in the past year has been truly astounding.”

Minseok smiles shakily.

“There’s really nothing else to say that we haven’t already covered. This paper is a gift, Minseok.” Professor Lee tells him. And then Minseok’s graced with one of her rare, open smiles. “I’ll see you at graduation.”

Minseok feels a grin split his face, and he stands to bow hastily. He’s gathering his things to leave when, just out of the corner of his eye, he sees a stack of papers shuffling across the desk, untouched. He blinks, and everything is still again. Uncertainly, Minseok glances up at the closed window by the desk, no breeze in the room besides.

“Run along now, Minseok.” Professor Lee says. Her back is turned to him, but Minseok has worked with her long enough to tell when she is smiling.

“Y—yes, professor.” Minseok says, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.

He’s still shell-shocked when he leaves the building five minutes later, brushing through the crowd of noisy, rejoicing students on the front steps. Almost everyone should be done for the semester, and Minseok pulls out his phone from his pocket. There are two messages from Junmyeon, details about the dinner next week, but it’s the third message that Minseok opens right away.

From Jongdae:  _Congratulations! We’re waiting for you down by the pond!_

Minseok reads the message several times. He looks up at the sunny blue sky.

-

Baekhyun and Jongdae are the only two people on the deck when Minseok steps through the foliage, the joyful chatter of the other students replaced by the tranquil sound of running water.

Neither of them notice him at first, standing close as they are to one another. Jongdae is whispering into Baekhyun’s ear, hand resting possessively on Baekhyun’s hip. It’s precious and lovely and steals Minseok’s breath away, how perfectly they fit together. Minseok’s heartbeat thrums under his skin, loud and clear in his ears.

Jongdae notices him and winks, turning back to Baekhyun with a soft smile on his face. But around Baekhyun’s waist, his fingers motion for Minseok to come closer, and when Minseok doesn’t move, he tilts his attention away from Baekhyun again and mouths,  _‘Come, hyung.’_  

Minseok closes the distance between them.

Later the weather report will comment on this last day of the school year, students fanning out across campus, laughing, jostling and celebrating. It’s a fine day to be happy, the sky perfectly sunny and blue, lightning cracking overhead with no trace of a downpour, temperature cool and airy despite the blazing sun.

“Hey, hyung.” Baekhyun says. “Wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

Minseok knows how this will go. He’ll end up doing most of the cooking, him and Kyungsoo, while Baekhyun, Jongdae and Chanyeol muck around in the living room, inevitably causing enough noise to pass for an entire chorus line. 

During dinner, Kyungsoo will thank Minseok for being the only voice of reason at the table, and blatantly pretend that he hasn’t cooked everyone’s favourite dishes,  _again_. Baekhyun will play with Minseok’s feet under the table and accidentally kick someone in the shin, and have to wash the dishes in penance. Jongdae will feel sorry for him and help out, while Kyungsoo puts on a movie and Chanyeol sprawls out on the couch beside him.

Some days Minseok, Jongdae and Baekhyun will join them, and other days they won’t, but always, by the end of the night, they’ll retire to the bedroom and curl up together, on a bed not nearly big enough for three. It’s predictable and sappy and Minseok can’t get enough of it.

“Yes,” Minseok says, and this time the simmering beneath his skin is all heart. “Yes, I’d love to.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This only became MAMA!AU when midway into the drabble, I decided I did not want Jongdae holding a gun. Seeing that the fic is 90% superpowers, truly I have no one to blame but myself. I hope you enjoyed it, at least!


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